City of Glass

Cold wind blowing
Squall of gulls over its whistle
Gray and white quilt stitched overhead
Rhythmic thunk of cars over sewer grates
and at the base of paved hills
The smell of the market: tulips, daffodils,
fish and cinnamon
Underlying hint of rain
Then, from on high,
the quilt is pierced with fierce white,
It bounces off the buildings,
reverberates off the ocean
and turns every stone into a rare jewel
and every stain into a priceless artifact