things move around

The first I knew of the sun’s return
from its 40-day sojourn
was a rumour that spread over my skin,
from pore to pore,
this morning as I sat in my car,
hungover and not all there:

the sky sprung a leak
and the sun in a molten spark
welled up like a cry of joy and broke
from behind an advertising hoarding,
and all of us stopped what we were doing
and stood applauding.