Interconnectivity

Early this morning, as dawn
Creeps behind the clouded sky
A strange dreams of times past
Visits and leaves behind unease.

I wake to the breeze of my open
Window and the songs of 
A homeless woman who often
Spends the night in a doorstep
Down the way. She talks, yells
And then sings her inner ghosts
Into the greyness of the streets.

That done, she begins her day.