the world is struggling to wake up.
I have watched the dawn, the rise of Thursday.
garbage trucks, delivery trucks, tradesmen all early risers scurry
into today. Now it's the workers cars, soon to be followed by the buses slowly filling with each pass beneath my balcony, finally bursting at the seams
with school children. Noisily they invade the streetscape, their I-Pod exuberance rising above the rumble of traffic, giggling, chattering, shrieking like a pack
of geese as they migrate across the crossing.
they move in unrelated packs, oblivious of everything, except themselves,
hands waving wildly, their sweet perfumes, aftershave, makeup and latest fashion overstatements highlighting their lack of individuality.
for half and hour they own the footpath as everything gets swept up in
their en massing movement through the town, only to be suddenly swallowed
by the school gate.
peace returns as the remains of their chaos is blown away by the traffic,
wrappers, straws, and the odd discarded hair clip.
the music of the morning dance has finished her overture.
my insomnia is now joined by a world forced out of bed
by the obligations of life.
the day's players are now set for their race as they keep pace
with the sun's journey towards the afternoon's finish line when everything goes
into reverse, messily packing up a finished day.
I am perched on my chair, one floor up,
like an umpire, waving at the few who manage to liberate their eyes
from what's in front of them.
life is hilarious.
I make my tea, and I perform my solemn ceremony
to a surprised audience of school children
trapped inside a bus at a red light.
for a brief moment I become the centre of their
attention, until they are whisked away,
their laughter mixing with the black exhaust that swirls
behind the first few gears of departure.
I pray that the busdriver is full of deaf patience.
tonight I will watch the sunset as the mood changes with the light's transformation
into street lamps and the Chinese restaurant's faint neon sign.
my tea cup becomes a wine glass and silence slowly returns,
finally giving me permission to seek sleep.
the play is over, for a few hours respite,
until the garbage trucks announce tomorrow's
first act.

Life goes on.