Dark mornings in Autumn
we feel the approach of winter.
The street lights shimmer in
wet pavement puddles.
Queues
and orderliness
abound,
waiting for buses,
trains,
a slow shuffle to
descend into
our allocated space.
Bags held
with essential items
to maintain the sanity of the day.
Reminders as we walk
through the city
that lives are not all so ordered,
a glimpse of tinfoil
and cardboard
in the doorway,
covering
a huddled figure.
What occurs to change the order,
the structured form of living,
into a struggle
to find warmth on a
dark street?
Hoping for help
from those who pass,
who carry
the concern
into our
ordered
days.
Jen
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