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Nanjing Summer
Gabriele Morgan
The rain is gray blue on
the pavement of the tented city,
Reds dulled by dark weather.
When nighttime comes
The lanterns hanging from the stalls
Will shine into the fog
Raised by cold water and hot earth
Old men sit under eaves
Waiting for a break in the clouds
Not knowing, like the children do
That dancing in the rain
Is one of life’s treasures
For now, concrete feet belong
To the old ones hiding from
The dark and wet in the shops
Their grandparents tended
While their golden-linings
Puddle-jump in the pouring rain.
She is golden light
Glowing like a pillar on
a dark, craggy shore.
And she owns the space that she
lives in, arms spread ocean wide.
Gabriele Morgan
67
Daughter of a Star