An Atonement for Sin

Sadie worked down by the river, her hands black
From scrubbing the gutters, her face smudged and the wires
Ran lengthwise from the tips of her shoes
Down through the streets and into the graying sky
Heavy with impending rain. Along the way,

In the cracks of the concrete of square blocks
Where the shoes of the other workers of the city,
Adorned and molten in movement, you can see
The sprout of a grass, a tuft, shorn by treading,
Trampled, here and there. Here and there.

The workers of this city, to remain un-named, turn
In their chairs and all of their faces
Reminiscent of the times and places of all lives
Face skyward to the drifting grey, the clouds,
Hung with the appearance of rain in its center.
They begin to sing a song which remains tuneless.

The automobiles of the workers turn left, turn right,
Moving forward in the directions they will take.
Thanks to recent innovations in auto culture and engineering,
Some will sport a fake flower on the dash in a receptacle
For just such a thing. The auto begins its turn,
Turning, turning, turning! Oh, what a fantastic dance!
Dance, dance, dance! Sing, sing, dream on long into the darkened night!