The morning hums.
Muted, it’s unclear how–
another soporific,
with the lingering dark,
the anesthetic fog.
Downtown yesterday
street corners jutted
into sun
but the size
of the hospital
precluded it–
so we walked
in the shadow
on parallel streets
not quite woken
but just below,
with no real desire
for surfacing.
The street corner image in your third stanza is wonderful. Lovely poem.
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