A blink of pain sets the course
for the day, after a night of
chasing dreams.
Outside, the city is covered in a
wardrobe of clouds; pearl white
and dusk of gray. Below the
sidewalk lifted up a degree of
voices. Some loud, others a
minnow of words slipping through.
A small bucket of sunlight spills
across the street. A harvest
of motion and steam fills
the air. Shadow art constantly
changes as the motion of legs
resembles light through spokes.
I prepare for work. Watering
my thoughts to grow into words.
Roger Singer 