Grim-faced and forbidding,

Their faces closed tight,

An angular mass of New Yorkers

Pacing in rhythm,

Race the oncoming night,

They chase through the streets of Manhattan.

Headfirst humanity,

Pause at a light,

Then flow through the streets of the city.



They seem oblivious

To a soft spring rain,

Like an English rain

So light, yet endless

From a leaden sky.



The buildings are lost in the limitless rise.

My feet catch the pulse and the purposeful stride.



I feel the sense of possibilities,

I feel the wrench of hard realities.

The focus is sharp in the city.



Wide-angle watcher

On life's ancient tales,

Steeped in the history of London.



Mist in the streets of Westminster.

Wistful and weathered,

The pride still prevails,

Alive in the streets of the city.



Are they oblivious

To this quality?

A quality

Of light unique to

Every city's streets.



Pavements may teem with intense energy,

But the city is calm in this violent sea