By Dalston Junction, The Buses Blaze Bright Red

Dazzled by the dawn at Dalston Junction,
where steel legged cranes fish in the foundations,
commuters squirm with early morning worms.

No epiphany down the Balls Pond Road,
although the sunlight on cement explodes
into soul shards above the station yard.

And by the sandwiches in Costcutters,
golden beams spread as thick as warm butter,
while a bus stops and burns outside the shop.