Saturday 5:40 a.m.

If I had to love Toronto

I’d pick this hour when a misty light starts to glow in the east

beyond the cityscape.

I cycle south

past a solitary streetcar,

past a streetcleaning tractor,

the road sloping gently downhill, I glide into the urban gloam

towards the glorious moment.

I cross the Lakeshore and eagerly turn east

into the salmon and oyster clouds

the brightening.

At Cherry St, I stop on the bridge

to face the industrial dawn --

the blues tinged with mauve and yellow fill the eastern sky

the empty expressway races north

hydro towers, smokestacks, and this canal prepare the stage for the star's arrival.

Behind me, the CN tower and bank buildings give a standing ovation –

and on the waterfront, factories and silos

the island and ferry terminal in the distance

pink-tinged sag of smog

purple striations of cirrus.

The ducks swim into the canal

a truck rattles past

while gradually and absolutely

the sky turns white.

A fish – or an otter – applauds with a splash,

and, like an old person rising from a chair,

the sun pulls herself above the horizon

between the houseboats and the smokestacks.

It’s 6:10 a.m. and

I own the morning:

this sunrise -

mine.