Morning Gift

The sun illuminates the kitchen window. A shadow, of steam rising from a pipe, on the roof of the building next door, dances lazily on the side of the refrigerator. The shadow resembles the shadow of rippled water being reflected onto an object. It is strangely just as soothing. The pipe is black, long, and thin, with a flip top; no doubt releasing steam and gases from some ones waste system. From something so ugly, comes something so beautiful.