Listen close between the

horns and percussion

of the churning traffic

 

you'll hear the sunlight 

creaking 

across the floorboards

of an attic room

 

the one where a fly 

keeps buzzing In and out

as if looking for something

he left behind.

 

Someone is waking now

and reaching out

in an otherwise empty bed

 

while in the balcony below

the widow whispers

to her morning glories

 

and in a next door room

a caged bird is singing 

with only a small mirror

for company.