Pockets of people and clusters of some;
the running of errands while businesses hum;
Lights all on timers and small garbage lay
on the edges of streets which see traffic all day.
People of purpose all scurry about
to buildings and buses; hop in and jump out:
Opulence here and poverty right there;
some in between; and one with green hair!
Loud horns and whistles scare birds from behind
before they have found all the food they can find;
Noises and voices and scuffling feet all blend
in high decibels here on the street.
The song of the city continues this way, as day fades
to darkness, and then slips away;
the glow of the city seen both far and near
lights the stage for this symphony that we all hear.
(William Simpson - original pen: 2002; re-worked 2009)