Circadian Poems

A place to celebrate poetry, poets, and the creative spirit.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Manhattan Morning

By Lydia Yorke

Sirens silent
Garbage trucks come and gone
Radios off.

Unusual quiet
in a cool, grey morning light
barely brushed with yellow.

The thieves have gone underground
and prostitutes haven't emerged . . .
in this neighborhood.

A few buses groan in and out of Port Authority
along with a sprinkling of yellow cabs
and vans.

Almost-empty streets
almost-clean air
in an almost-human city.

Lydia Yorke loves Manhattan.


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