Old Friends

With morning, still night,
early traffic
on dark roads
miles and miles long.

The banality of morning reporters;
an orange, plastic wrapped newspaper
still cold from winter's touch.

Old coffee grounds
dumped out.

The pouring of coffee;
The filling up of a cup.

A car running
warming up
in a driveway
almost ready.

Gears shifting, to a pause,
of a garbage truck
continuing on.

The emergence of a bright orange sun.

Hundreds of mornings
still dark
take light
and then people run
into one another, old friends.