in the half light

Soft dawn, fresh scented,
raining bird calls
drift me,
to Scheelagatan,
windows lamped
her balconies snow banked.

December's frozen crystals
streaming
fluid,
suspended horizontal 
to float
glass canyons 
of apartments 
half piped.

Delicate and sleeping
in a white room textured,
behind laced curtains  
and snow flakes falling.

While a thousand shades of green,
stand harmonious to me,  
as a tablecloth
upon a table.

Branching causeways
ramparts,
skyworked cathedral halls,
drifting  birdsongs to Scheelagatan
in the half light.