You wouldn’t know

but by the sound of it.

Five flights down, a box truck

beeps like an alarm clock

as it backs into a loading zone.

Someone’s moving day.

Helios is harnessing his team,

champing at the bit to make

good time. A distant

train horn, parting words,

prises open the crack of dawn

and ripples in my fading dream—

the prelude to a reverie

I incline to believe.