It is cool today, snow falls past
a window that swings uncertainly -
as thrown off by March snowstorms
as the pale face behind the pane.

It is dark donight, a car pushes through
blackness that fades to the burnt orange
of city skies, as a pair of eyes adjusts to
streetlamp glare from behind the pane

It is quiet. Light alone betrays
the stillness of a morning street
to no-one at all but the face
behind the pane.