Every Night At 7
The city’s super quiet now
As life remains on hold,
A siren’s wail from time to time
Erupting uncontrolled.
Until, each night at 7
When the clapping sounds begin,
Accompanied by cow bells,
Only adding to the din.
With whoops and shouts and singing,
Either live or Spotified,
New Yorkers thus acknowledge,
For the help that they provide…
The workers who risk everything
To labor in the stores
And hospitals and anyplace
Beyond their own front doors.
From sidewalks (6 feet separate)
And from windows people clap,
Connecting and uniting
Past the social distance gap.
They cannot hug or congregate –
All contact’s been deferred –
But every night at 7
They join others to be heard.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2020
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