When I awake the sky is yet
A muted white, unpainted by the sun.
As I move, pinks glow on the clouds.
The sun rises so far north, I can sit on my front step to watch.
It's many minutes before a single car passes
The windows of the house and cars are coated with
perspiration- exhausted before they begin
at the thought of another humid and scorching day.
The street lights flicker - uncertain if their job is yet done.
Too quickly, the pinks fade to smoky purple
The birds chide with restrained disapproval.
It's not the sun's fault, really, it's the clouds'.
All that nebulous water, shifting as the world spins.
I look down at my cat, at his mild surprise at finding me outside,
usually his domain
While I'm (looking), the pinks return.
distracted
