Water molecules erect a sheer wall of humidity in the air.
It could be that the rain sent an emissary,
but one unable to resist atmospheric diffraction.
One who knocked but drifted, wanton,
the unanswered door already forgotten,
leaving an aura of hydrogen cells merging with salted oxygen,
a buffer of divine trinity lacing my skin.
A pair of yellow finches zipped past on zigzag latitudes
until it seemed that they were two buttercup colored butterflies,
one dusty, one polished, a matching, careening tandem.
It seemed something synchronized suddenly,
in that moment the birds entered and left my consciousness.
I stepped onto the sidewalk,
my feet leaving damp shadows on bone colored stone.