Early, when light struggles for a place,
a black cat steps with velvet
feet around last evening’s rains walking the
corners like winds touching curtain ends.
Shutters stare onto the dampened alley as sun lines
spread over cobblestones rich with history.
Palm trees breathe into morning.
The fronds work the air like a piano touched
by genius; shadows of people below
weave noisily into the chorus
of a city.
An early humid breeze stretches onto the
streets. Shop doors open. Buses hiss to a stop.
People weave the corners while shouldering
the early burdens of day.
Roger Singer 