Patterns

I love
my milk with cookies
and the splatter of rain
on fiery red hatchbacks.
I love
patterns - routines, rituals.
Most of all,
I love the unfolding of patterns.
 
I patiently wait
at street corners, bus-stops,
metro stations, playgrounds,
streetside cafes,
abandoned constructions.
From my vantage point,
patterns appear out of the noise.
 
I pick my favorite color
from the spectrum.
I pick my favorite tune
from the chaos.
I pick my starling
from the murmuration,
my sardine from the great shoal.
 
For months,
I patiently wait
beneath the murmur,
inside the shoal,
among the noise—
to pick my next victim.