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New York Morning
Morning is the time with soft washed light
like champagne in thin glass. We thank
the lord we live, like an Alzheimer
patient constantly surprised by
that same friend who comes and comes
with flowers. Each morning sees us
fresh and city streets like gardens
look towards the sky and glassy
buildings shine anticipating day
time when the people fill the offices
and shops and commerce leads
to conversation shared with coffee
cups. Dogs trot on leashes, cats
observe from ledges and cars
seem like friendly horses, part
of a familiar scene. The distant
thrum of aircraft joins the morning
music, ground bass under timpani
of heels and chat. And no one knows
this morning is the last morning like that.
like champagne in thin glass. We thank
the lord we live, like an Alzheimer
patient constantly surprised by
that same friend who comes and comes
with flowers. Each morning sees us
fresh and city streets like gardens
look towards the sky and glassy
buildings shine anticipating day
time when the people fill the offices
and shops and commerce leads
to conversation shared with coffee
cups. Dogs trot on leashes, cats
observe from ledges and cars
seem like friendly horses, part
of a familiar scene. The distant
thrum of aircraft joins the morning
music, ground bass under timpani
of heels and chat. And no one knows
this morning is the last morning like that.