NW Lovejoy, Portland

The morning is dark, only traces of blue and purple behind the tree in the lot. A jet rumbles across the sky while the shadows of the room stretch and slink out the door. 
It is Saturday, only an occasional car. When a truck goes by the squeak of its brakes lays across the bed with the fragile blue light. The oak holds its curly branches still against the grey while two leaves wiggle slightly in a tiny wind.