Taking on New Possibility

It's Saturday and it's stunning out.
I scoot through the alley, circle around
again, then idle at the neck of this tributary. 
It's not raining anywhere, I think. And the light 
from window to window on my left has me 
imagining a cafe that could be easily relocated 
to your block, on your walk. These windows 
such as you see, and their patrons. But this 
corner eatery isn't open yet. Its absent guests 
from the night before are home making coffee 
in their kitchens in their slippers or as their 
children jump noisily on their crumpling beds.
It's morning, after all, and I am headed elsewhere 
to handle recycled, hand-made books and sift 
through artists' discards taking on new possibility. 
But the light is beige and the sky is blue. 
And I am thinking how fond I am of trading
places like this with you.