Esplanade Rd 7.00 am
Barefoot on the marble of my mind
I awaken to muffled waves of distant
traffic
Birds singing Saturday requests
Under rainy skies that precipitate lightly
Angry winds lash embroiled tree trunks
above fallen leaves
My wooden windows shudder now-nervous
frames
Quietly below, somewhere, an engine
grinds forth
Threading louder past bungalows and
frosty villas
Gazing upwards I hear the neighbours
engaged
in a game of concrete tickle
Embraced life in warm dry space
laughing at a cold city
These sounds always scratch the stomach
Of my pre-breakfast mind.
