Sunlight in Albany

This is a poem I’ve been working on in my spare time this summer.  I haven’t seriously written poetry for a few years, and I’ve certainly missed it.  This is the second version of this poem that I’ve written.  There is still something missing that I haven’t captured, but I can’t quite figure out what it is.  It will, hopefully, come to me soon.  If you are reading this and you steal it, I will dislike you intensely.

Sunlight in Albany

The tall offices are encased by a dark glass,
effectively retaining the formulated flourescence
and refracting the feeble sunlight.

Exhausted beams drift through the city
and are absorbed by the dull, flat hue
of rusty, brush-painted cars.

The light Breaks through the thick city air
cigarette butts are illuminated to
break up the monotony of feces along the walks.

Through all seasons
there is this struggle for
expression of the natural.

Though winter snows are
meant to render all things beautiful,
the light is lost in dredges of slush.

In the park, the hazy light is filtered
by the pure springtime blossoms
of that lone dwelling of beauty.

The ossified days of summer find
children playing on the glass-strewn asphalt,
caring nothing for nature.

And crisp autumn leaves only help
to cover the bare ground of my lawn
that was shaded by the paraphenalia of neighborhood .

All seasons find the sunlight
lost, maimed, forbidden,
and rarely regarded.

Sunlight in Albany
only illuminates
the needs this city knows.