Sirens of Manhattan

The sirens of Manhattan Make a sound we always hear, Alerting all pedestrians And traffic to stay clear. It’s background noise that city folk Don’t pay attention to, The urban version of a field Of cows all saying, “Moo.” It doesn’t matter if the sound’s From ambulance or police Or fire engine; in a minute, Urgency will cease. New Yorkers will not raise their heads To note the siren’s screech Unless it stops right where they are, A safety zone-type breach. Then curiosity kicks in And nosiness runs riot Although, by then, the sirens have Quite naturally, gone quiet.