Shanghai Dawn

Dawn is gray and foggy
much like evening
A lone bicyclist pedals the elevated highway
between apartment blocks
twenty-six stories tall
and squat shanties with blue tarped roofs

Across the park a woman stands on a balcony
orange and red robe swaying subtly
shifting foot to foot
surveying the day

Rain puddles on concrete
next to yards of sheet metal
piled high in rusting orange stacks

Chinese characters painted red
race around a white fence
shouting their urgent story to passersby

I look to the balcony woman
She is still now
Long moments I watch
only the robe fluttering

Enlightened
I see
no woman,
only laundry
hung out to dry
in the Shanghai dawn.

-Peggy