Cricket Alley

No ball playing in Brown Brick alley.
      Where fig crickets chime
                      sequined song
                      shimmers thinly in
                      needle glint cascade.

Heavy heavens pile purple,
       fomenting deluge
                      pausing crow calls
                      beyond compressor's drone.

Tar, slate, corroded downspouts
      stand poised, to
                      conduct sky's blood
                      splash it into moist thickets,
                      where insects
                      strum their thighs.