A cloud lets the morning light
through.
Innocent hilly streets awake with secrets of the night before muffled by
the morning sun on the cobbles.
One rocky square neatly tucked into another, with souvenirs of passersby
as glue.
A wrapper, an unfinished cigarette stub,
a courageous flower or weed, gum.
The wind howls gently through
hanging linen from the 4th floor.
A head pokes out left right left.
Down: lulls as the bearer’s eyes
rest on the purple blossoms ahead.
Right left right, back in.
Doves join the chorus of the wind,
a car creaks passed following the smell of grilled seafood.
A child cries with joy as roasted
coffee fills the air.
The wind picks up, I jolt up to
save the window from slamming.
A cloud breaks the sunny interlude.
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