The city at first light

I've opened the window, it's neither cold nor hot. In fact there's no wind, hardly breeze at all, to make a difference. The sunrise is golden red and fading to orange now. There's the odd car or bike going by, but there's so much less human activity on a Sunday morning than a Saturday night.

The birds are singing to me, 'good morning'; I can hear the blackbird in particular. Earlier I even heard the pigeons cooing along the window ledges of the building. I watch a crow fly by, followed by another four or five. Then the magpie, solitary and majestic; floating by effortlessly on the first breeze of the day. Seagulls, pigeons, sparrows, and blackbirds... All absorbing the last of the sunrise in advance of their retreat into their secret city life.

But as the sky becomes more yellow, more cars fill the road, more people walk the streets, and the quicker the birds sing before fading into the past and starting their unnoticed day's.

It's 7am, and oh! I wish it would stay 7am all day long.
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