Tunnels of Summertime

For less than a minute,

there is not sky, no grey gloom.

Only the tunnels,

the flashes and glances,

that remind me of the approaching summertime.

They flash like fields of white wheat.

They break the grey drizzle,

Turn up the music.

The rin-tin-tinning of rain stops,

Artificial sun-rays gleam,

My skin shimmers and glows like sand.

They are broken up by shadows,

of trees

tall columns of cement,

leaves of rubber,

faded road signs.

Tunnels of summertime