Sunday, February 11, 2007


Sunbeam bullion greets
ivy covered brick.
New day’s dew freshens
night weary life.
This was a promise yesterday broken
but believed anew each dawn.
A finch sings melodious chirps
to her mate, notes that are noticed

by the cat on the corner.
The butcher’s wife hoses off
her sidewalk, speaks Italian
to the grocer next door while
Dominicans stop to buy jerk chicken
from the Jamaican vendor in the park.
Their children play on swings with
a Korean couple’s son, singing

songs from Sesame Street.
Two blocks down
a crew is raising steel to build
a new tower, a testament
to great people
making a great country

and a better world.
A teamster drives his garbage truck
down a snarled avenue.
Horns blare and fumes spew
while a policeman’s whistle screams.
Tired yellow taxis with worn shocks

bob like ducks as they swim downstream.
A tugboat is guiding a ship out to sea,
the horn moans like a disagreeable ghost.
Gulls squawk and cry,
chastising escorts,
never satisfied,

never making their desires known.
Now the sun has warmed the air beyond comfort
and the morning dew has become humidity.
The garbage truck grows ripe, flies buzz
around filthy bundles. Freshness
has been replaced by eye searing smog.
This is a promise again today broken.
But a promise to hope for tomorrow.

(published by Stimulus Respond)