I wake up to rain. The padlock on my window rusts a little faster. Perhaps one day it will rust through and I might open the anti-theft bars to let in the 7 story tree that I stare at each day.
The rain continues. The rain slows. The rain nearly stops and I know that if I look out my window and down to the street I'll see all the pollution it has picked up making sick little rivers. The construction sounds start again. It's 10:16am.
My friend, the tree outside the window, is looking fresh and clean. There are clustered buds of will-be flowers growing between the leaves. It will bloom for the Spring festival, perhaps in yellow or red.
But I've never seen bees here. All the hummingbirds are kept in cages.