Observations on an Early Morning Walk: 1

An early constitutional as the sky merges from night into dusky lilac.

Another “CD” may well have trod these same steps, over a century ago,

Languishing within this giant, multi-faceted muse...

These are the hours she merely dozes, with pockets of life bustling behind the City's stirring streets.

A woman shares my journey, at times.

A cane propels her heavy weight, which, I feel, ages her prematurely.

Tears fall from her eyes – but not in expression of sorrow or joy,

But the effect of the icy February winds that chase through the buildings.

It seems too early in the day, and the year, for local cafes to set up for al fresco diners.

It is optimistic.

Several bars and restaurants are in the cleaning process from last night’s jovialities. 

Outside one, a half-clean smear of vomit is deftly averted...

Breaking the silence, a chesty cough from a man wearing a white beard and red jacket.

‘Pere Noel’ this is not.

He calls to us two identical women: 

“Did you like it luv?!”

Who?  Us?  ’Like’ what?

“Yes thanks...!” I bat back, adding:  “Get that cough checked out!”

His hearty laugh fades as I mutter: 

“Nutty bastard....”

And again, I think of Dickens.

A huge glass-topped building meets me around a corner, arousing curiosity.

The working-man’s morning-song trills throughout.

Men in white coats, white hats, white shoes, white trousers

Push and pull heavy cargoes of corpses all over

A place of so much life and so much death.

It is no place for the sensitive vegetarian, I surmise.

But this thought will not affect its 800-year history;

Deals are made, notes exchanged and hands are shaken.
Just as it always was.

Back outside, herds of smartened City visitors move towards offices or relax inside cafes.

The word “morning” is sung in a variety of notes exactly twelve times before I seek refreshment.

When sated, I grab my cane and head homeward through the diamonds and Leather.