Afternoon

The city glistens in the half-set sun
The towers catch the highest of the light
Shining their beacons on the streets below
Blinding those scurrying among parked cars
Towards home and rest. The day's long course is run
But summer will not yield unto the night
Clinging instead onto the partial glow
That turns the upper windows into stars.
This blessed time is easily let by
Lazed into nothing by humidity
Spent thinking only of the next day's race
But I believe between us you and I
Can find a use for its divinity
Seizing the pleasures of its offered grace.