I watch
From a stone turret,
Through a window with wooden panes,
Beyond its uneven ridges and peeling flecks of paint,
In awe of
The diminishing sun rising above
Granite and steel skyline,
Thrusting through green plumage.
First sight below:
A jumbled mass of wheels, handles and
Plastic-skinned chains
Carelessly slid into erect metal anchors.
I marvel at the sudden change
From cars to bicycles to feet,
From neon margins on smooth grey concrete,
To narrow dusty trails
– Incisions –
Through brown earth
Littered with dry leaves and dead grass.
I watch
From a stone turret,
Through a window;
Not in a gown,
Not in pearls,
But in jeans.
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