A day in Toronto

Shadows
quivering, withdrawing
a ray of gold thrown into the heart
of the dying night at God's speed, a revengeful spear
to free the subjugated light, giving chase to the darkness, battling the fear

Here
comes the sun,
high in the sky; a magical kite
spreading joy; renovating hopes, a new day arrives
a different shadow, another kind of power, a polychromatic coat; a changing of lives

The sun
is now in the tool
boxes of Oshawa; the morning
feels right. Now is in Pickering; it walks at great pace
an immense shadow the golden light covers Scarborough, and bounces in the maze

Of the bluffs
and crashes and breaks
into a million sharp needles covered
in bright transparent material. It could be dew or steel
or precious stones left abandoned in its flight, by the fugitive night

In Morningside Avenue
by the morning side, the sun visits the zoo
and awakes the incarcerated beasts; for some, is a new night, for others
is time for storming; like human beings, at night or day, they mourn or feast

Down the road
on Kingston Road the day
travels at great speed. At the gates of
Toronto, in harmony with everything and with everybody
the sun deposits its seed of light and shares it with every stone, and leaf, and thing

The light
is on the Ontario Lake
struggling with the waves; infinite
pieces of gold, Infinite number of golden fishes fighting eternal
battles for the right to sunlight; on the surface, the water pushes and the light wishes;

The water wins
the wounded light dies
in the lake's depths. On the surface
carried by the waves the diaphanous body travels
to the beach and rests on the sand; the Beaches glows; sparks of diamonds on fire

The day
an action of God's mood
the new day invades the space; it slides towards
Toronto's downtown. Sunflowers and apricots, tangerines and oranges
red roses and champagne sweep away the shadows, ashes of the night

A tide of honey
a thunder of fire smashes metal
and glass, lawn and flowers;  the force of the glare
the immensity of the shining; the incandescent spectrum
covers it all; and no one remembers that once upon a time, there was obscurity

In every path
and in every patio
and in every soul walking in the mall
light breaches forbidden grounds and sits across
every crack in the walls. The day is not shy. It opens as the ear does, to truth and lies

The sun
is a golden chalice
held high in the sky by the hand of God
He toasts to our welfare so no one cries; Holy
Communion of Love; blessing we take for granted; undeserved grace

At noon
the downpour of light
cataracts over noble Torontonian heads, busy
in the financial labyrinth, seeking the monies; actions, vows, and words
nobody retracts; a city that understands it all; least its citizen's little economies

In the indefatigable
shining blue of Ontario
flames fall on Missies, Madams and Misters and Monsieurs
the day, already not so new, drags its lighted shawl, sublime
ghostly, ethereal. Tilted heads, expectant eyes, ears open-wide, wristwatches ready

The day
stealthy prowls
through heavens, and they
the Torontonians expectant in their marks, they wait, impatient
they wait for the sound of trumpets calling for withdrawal, calling-it-a-day

Watches
cell phones and clocks
play their roles while far in the west, the Great
Toronto sizzles; colors burning in Mississauga Road
at Pearson International a feast of fire works, and in downtown

Toronto
the skyscraper's line
shine, as it's party time at the
Rogers Centre; rush hour already on its way
and at a bang, like vicious dogs urged to hunt down a weak prey

One million
tires and more hit the road
boil the pavement; the 401 races, speeds, rushes
desperadoes rule seeking their way back home; is rush hour
thanks God it's Friday, everybody going west meets the fire star

That glows
at arm's length
and slows the traffic
and blind the blind that keeps driving, anyway
the highway mellows out with a cocktail of rubber and steel

And glass
and speed, and dances
to the rhythm of red and blue and white
light bulbs turning fast in the fast lane; police radios cracking
ambulances wailing, cell phones whirring, jingling, twanging, ringing

The day is gone
and with it the sun; a new night
begins, but that's another story. Chaos has relaxed
on the highways, burning coals turning fast stop spoiling
the road. Breathe; you are at home for a happy get together, kiss the spouse

Cheers
the family; starred nights
luminous fragrances of Ontario
families at dinner time joining in merriment
meanwhile, downtown Toronto just slows down its pace

Lights
are forever on
the sparkling buildings are not just for the photography
Toronto is the true city that never slips, neither because of gambling
nor for similar needs. Twenty-four seven Toronto works; disciplined city

That carries within
the joy of work, the burning
of productivity; burning eyes, burning light bulbs
persistent discipline that breaks through the pavement
of the streets, as weeds, and the chaos is fixed; the day is gone

The night is silent
but there is still some invisible
sorrow, dreams that cry their stories
are forever trapped inside the office's walls
listen to the moans of dreams through the walls; kicking, scratching, biting, bitching

Hoping
some day
they will come true
maybe tomorrow; perhaps tomorrow
but, tomorrow is a new day; and that's another story…
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