Walking on stones.
Through people, past people to people,
I see:
A man outside the post office,
letter in hand,
Waiting.
Shops slowly open.

An alarm goes off.
Noone seems to notice but me.
Monday morning. Durham.
The cathedral covered in mist
- a grey ghost.
Legs red with cold
but I am happy watching people
living.

The river is high as I pass it,
walk under the bridge.
A branch flees past towards the town.
I go in the other direction,
up the hill and meet with cars.
They bend with the road,
heading for work or home.

Watching life happen, I smile and walk on.