Horns Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

Pi-pee the horn goes on in this prohibited city,
With bright yellow headlights untwinkling
At the red traffic signal about to change:
These pi-pees are like - some sharp and short,
Some prolonged, and some staccato,
Without a conductor, there is none to moderate.
It neither ends nor levels off while I watch.
Like the waves, it keeps coming for ever.
And that variety beats that of the stars
On a dark sky, pi-pee, pi-pee for ever!