“The repetition of my days/ that are alike,/ my days that are not alike.” ~ Nazim Hikmet

A day like any other – Cold for the season, humming

With clouds, strung like accordions Over the ribs of suspended bridges

Tug boats, like hunting dogs, nosing out Passages to the open sea for cargoes

Lifting my head to look through the high windows I sense their absence again occupying that old space

A passing wall of rain over bony nerves, Memories' backwash over the hour's reef