a poem by Ann Rosenthal

Every morning, the grey light
Which is not quite yet blue
But also not white
Closer to steel than natural grey
Dawns me.

I sleep outside a church.
I have consent.
Such small blessings
Rain like unstrained mercy
Heavendown.

Dew, damp, drizzle
Condensation in the car
Warm blanket from marae
Those food parcel teabags
All muddled up

Like me, the cold dawn chorus
Where birdsong tweets a line
Traffic sounds fume the bass
The urban mix, today’s release.
Steel light. The empty day.

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