awake at 5 am
on the river where the pink light
complements half crescent moon
guides eagle’s shimmering squeal
slate current pushing
pushes transient logs back to where they’ve
There, a fish,
did you see it?
Lights from the bridge shining distortion,
make no difference to
tugs chugging east, ever-steady hum muted
crossing the bridge, farther on.
To the south,
Alex Fraser spires imitate drawbridge
and just behind me,
Norman, your cat, peers out like a prisoner,
or a child, waiting his mother’s return.
Sky mixes pastels,
slivers of pink
alight tips of clouds
hints at heaven’s reality
what’s for breakfast?