the harsh metallic mangle

of a rooftop fan

swallows the busker's moan,

leaves no space

for a lighter voice.

looking up from beneath

the broken brim

of her raggedy hat,

she mouths a mute song;

soft, soft strum in pantomime.

give me. oh give me.

the light washes thin.

the day wanes unmourned.

she packs away 

her parlour guitar.

six sparrows bounce

and skitter

along the barren ground.

9/1/2021