Morning

              1.

Less faces form the sunrise,
upon a sunset place, solitude
offers silence, my eye
opening, the city drifts
east, the Forth a silver bar
reflects,
sleepers dream the night,
birdsong shimmers
between.


              2.

In this place, seeking coffee,
closed shop fronts align
with the clock,
early or late
principles of perception.

Grey faces pass through windows,
busses trade freedom,
or its' illusion,
for the price of a key,
opening the locks,
offering each purchase.

Standing, clutching a cappucino,
between bags of litter
the last fox scavenges
upon the residue of night.


            3.

   
Returning to my silences,
the warming air surrounds each step,
traces a pathway where day
replaces fading moon,
solitude awaits in an empty bed,
and sleep
remains a distant possibility
between dreams.