...its dark outside

it’s dark outside; sharp as needles,
the cold invades layers of warm clothes.
soft drops of icy rain and snow fall
gently on sleeping roofs.

footsteps on the pavement
tread gently, exploring and unsure.
as the night’s snow turns to ice
more falls like silk from above.

cold alleys pass by
mesmerizing reflections peek out.
strange lights sparkle at every corner
many colours – red, orange and green.

the occasional sound of tyres on wet surface
tread gently, exploring and unsure.
flashing red once in a while
exploring the line between speed and safety.

the Tower is dim and the parks empty
famous landmarks lie abandoned and vacant.
no tickets on sale now
no people milling around.

now the footsteps are surer
and the stride confident.
fresh, cool breeze in the air.
making good time, but some way to go.

slowly but surely light asserts itself,
rays of sunlight through the dense shroud of clouds.
soon the houses will be empty
and people everywhere.

he must get back to the start
and begin the transformation to the routine.
solitude and peace will soon disappear
and he will blend into the millions.

for a while there was a thrill (or was it a fear?)
of being alone (but in a world of marvels).
no one to share (and no one to please)
but it was just a morning routine.

December 22, 2009
about my morning jog