Soft smoke shovels in, and in pieces it roams
Riling up the once reserved, serene sound of the city.
Chicago houses fold, and a depressed deity enters
The dormant city and awakes them at dawn
As light pulls through but the sun still sleeps.
Mountains ache as they struggle to stay alive
The young pebbles are lost in the puffs forever.
Seemingly simple skies show sorrow
And the risen city is in turmoil.
Elders scrutinize the Windy City
For the Wind had forgotten to save the day.
Children don’t come out
Sunday prays that it’ll be over soon
The urgency is slim,
But the imperative industry
Has quarreled with livelihood
And a full moon has arrived.
The day is dead
Some winter life in a burrow
But hope catches its breath
And the city sleeps until tomorrow.