In summer's light
concrete turns white;
the city might
fade into smoke.
Ants feel no mirth:
the grains of earth
have their own worth;
trails turn baroque.
So as time goes,
a full moon glows;
a damp wind flows.
Then the clouds broke.
- this is a Welsh form called rhupunt. I'm not sure I like it - the rhyme scheme is pretty demanding and with the short lines, it ends up too singsongy.
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