Noise lots of it
And bright flashing lights
Large orange and black signs
Heralding the onslaught of work yet to come
Big loud trucks, motors grating
The incessant beep beep sound
Of backing trucks
Filled with all manner
Of materials
That promise improvement
Some are dirty, messy, strong of smell
And the work looks like it will be
Hot, tiring, no fun
But a promise has been made
You will wait
You will see
Maybe something can be salvaged
From this wreck of a road
Each day you watch from your window
Coffee in hand
Unaware
That you are barely breathing
As the days pass
You begin to see small changes
Day after day you watch
Breath held, fingers gripped
Around the handle of your mug
Coffee getting cold
As the weeks pass
The changes become more discernable
Until one day
You notice
A ssmooth patch of black tar
Where before there’d been crumpled black top
Making it a jarring, uncomfortable ride
After that
The work goes quickly
And as the stifling heat of Summer
Gives way to the chill warmth of Autumn
All work stops
And
You find yourself
Standing at the window
Coffee cup in hand
Fragrant steam arising
From its porcelain depths