Winter's Little Wonders

The street lamp drips light
when it rains.
Its cast hooded and distant,
but sparks scorch the night.
Fleeting, yellow,
and luminous
against the falling gray.
Their descent
is briefly lit up.
Their glow
is swiftly taken away.
The flow
catches them, snatches them
back into the fray.
Uniqueness lost,
forgotten,
they carry on the drop.
But the lightfall
continues,
the crying doesn't stop.

The street lamp weeps light
when it rains.
Its head bent with grief
as tears stain the night.
Small, bright,
and brimming
from its radiant
eye.
Its gaze downcast,
averted
from the overcast sky.
When it rains,
the street lamp drips light.
But its sorrow
is a beautiful sight.