Nearly Tuesday

If you get up early enough before the sun the stars disappear before the sky clouds over It’s that magic promise time of day when the bakers and milkmen are beginning their routines Soon the empty trams will fill with sleepy eyed dockers, factory workers, shop workers. Scarves wrapped over tightly combed hair with two ends pointing at well plucked eyebrows. Or the flat round docker caps folded to one side with the peak so carefully bent. So far the cars are still empty coming out. That’ll change soon as the night workers end their shifts. But for now it’s twirly for all that. No queues anywhere. The sparrows are working the pavement and gutters scuttling feverishly for the slightest crumb. Here and there a house cat carefully ignores the occasional pedestrian and grooms sedately , dogs get out later. Lights come on in the flats over the shops as the warm beds empty and gas stoves heat tea kettles The sun slides up to hide in the now solid cloud cover and the sea salt tar wetness of another workday drifts across the cobbled street.