At the beginning of the day luminescent dawn
folding into new blu day they all come to us.
Never mind what they did or didn’t do
the night and day before. Clouds were shining like
dancers in paint. They come to our world
on the rooftop of our ghetto built back in ’81.
Who told they could fly ban the noise of the city
by roving through skies. Who knows how
their colors forgotten all around survive among us.