Some sun in the morning

It had rained all week, but this morning I could see it coming through the gaps between the panels of the blinds.

And sure enough, out the window there it was, a geometric swathe of light, broadly cutting up the opposite facade.

There also on the roofs, catching in the silver spikes of the antennas, bouncing off the ventilators.

Outside it was all faces like flowers, eyes narrowed solemnly.

At the crossing, people passing through the air with open coats, scarves like brightly coloured knives. 

Blue reflected in a puddle, cut with pointed streaks of black.

On the platform, someone waiting just below the awning, their slanted gaze obscured.

In the train, slow and thorough, through the dusty carriage windows, it trembled on the lapel of a jacket, roamed across somebody's face. They squinted, distracted, then once again absorbed themselves in the landscape passing by.