From that to this,
suddenly it is all new:
windscreen wipers on windows;
shush of water under wheels;
engine moaning as the bus
rattles over potholes.
A siren like a blackbird
darts through the lights.
Cars carve up water
whooshing past;
a handful of humans
quiet in the early morn,
sleep clinging like cobwebs
not yet dusted down by life.
August rain steams the air
humid as a jungle.
From this to that.