I am praying for the sun
to breach through the fading darkness
near the oriental horizon;
that quarter of the sky,
with a faint touch of scarlet rogue,
has been blushing for some time now.
The silent seconds pass
until a street dog starts to bark,
that echoed like a paranoid howl
up and down the dark, empty streets,
as other dogs howled in return;
then it stops as abruptly as it has begun.
Meanwhile the extent of the blush has grown, I see
and soon, I know, from my prayers the sky shall be burned.