The City; early morning, New Years Day

Stony quiet everywhere.


I can hear my footsteps
Scuff of sole with each step
In time, regular, hurried
My breath now oddly audible
Both feet and lungs marking my presence
A reminder of my living body, living


The monoliths silent, motionless.


Gusts of wind in certain streets
Obliterate me momentarily
Then fade or drop suddenly
Then my sounds return to me

Out of sight somewhere, a woman guffaws, stops
And then turning a corner
A sheaf of paper flung against the kerb
Slaps and flaps furiously, noisily
Trapped on something
As I move on