The city wakes —
early birds break the silent air,
thoughts flow like streams.
The first passerby
hurries softly down the street,
time starts to turn.
Birdsong in birch trees rings —
“Rejoice, all people!”
Sunlight peeks in through the glass —
moments of joy.
Fresh coolness fills the yard —
time made of small breaths.
Life spins gently on,
in the rhythm of movement.