Quite early, on All Hallows

Sometimes, quite early on All Hallows
I watch a blood orange sun rise
over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows.

As a resurrected city grows
into life, gulls swoop and dive
sometimes, quite early on All Hallows.

Soon the Kingston bridge rumbles and flows
under a pouting, blueblack sky
over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows.

The faint ghosts of double rainbows
are painted across my eyes
sometimes, quite early on All Hallows.

Two figures, dark and thin as crows
watch this same solemn sunrise
over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows.

Just visible by a cigarette glow.
And so they live and so survive,
sometimes. Quite early on All Hallows
over the Clyde as a bitter wind blows.