July 21: The view from Milson's Point ...

I’m sitting here, it’s cold, it’s dark, but the view is quite surreal

I’m seated in an outdoor restaurant, and against the cold I steel

This view it is majestic, but no mountains can I see

I’m staring at a traffic jam, but no one can see me

I’m tucked away at Milsons Point, I see the cars approach the bridge

And buses take the roundabout, I bet it’s warmer in the fridge

The trains roll by, up, overhead, and so silently do they slide

Distributing the masses home, like the gentlest receding tide

I could stare at this for hours, there’s something quite serene

About the movement of a city, that I can see but not be seen

A palm tree shades the roundabout, beneath the overpass

As people go about their business, at a tempo unnaturally fast

I’ll sit here for a little longer, as I take in all the sights

As the sound of a garbage truck unloading, it interrupts the night

But it’s gone and the simple drone returns, the cars, buses and the trains

And although it might be dark and cold, at least there is no rain