Metropolitan Sunrise

A gilt and rusted nest of steel, stone and brick and concrete, haunted by its own electric soul, awaits the tangled light of early spring. Throughout the restless night, heavy boats have cut across the bay leaving scars upon its cold and gray and gleaming skin. But every sin committed on the landscape by this sprawling city suddenly appears to be forgiven with the rising of the sun. “Live again, and work.” A million clocks have sprung. The ragged threads of countless dreams that clung to countless minds are brushed away. In unison they rise, they wash, they work. The moon alone is left to take its subtle time, to wander narrow strips of sky, to climb the steel lattices and gaze away across the moving clamor of the day.