Daybreak

Listen, above the roof, silence brightens.

Do trees sleep at night that look peaceful now?

Machinery stands on its wheels, waiting.

Tradies trade constructions, in trains going by.

The moon at horizon’s a Japanese peach.

The cold on car windows unwhitens by eight.

Those holes in the ground will be tower blocks.

Surveillance monitors the obvious.

All those white clouds, where will they finally rest?

Commuter’s earpiece sings soft the Fifties.

Graffiti personalizes billboards.

Shopfronts reflect a stray dog out early.

Birds on wires do their birds on wires thing.

The dream of speed arose on horseback. Indeed.