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.
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