You scorn this silence, pecking the tin roof, Then caw and caw at hours standing still. Meanwhile the melting day is stretching on; Slow heat and haze consuming everything. All noise we know is metaphor, alas The skylark is forever trapped in joy. While you, my friend, can only rage and curse At justice and injustice equipoise. This light grants no illusion, gives no hope— Like me you dream of rain and autumn leaves, And caw and caw, at life, forever cross. This day deserving nothing more than screams.