Any Morning In Nyc Poem by Duy Bui

Waking up in New York city
I often do not know which is noise,
Which is music to listen for.

Those birds flapping their morning wings,
exchanging chatters between sighing
machines and dispatching, crying sirens

as the grey Long Island Railroad dash
by and run over their conversations
about the secrets of every new morning.

Sometimes when they are willing,
Their flashing shadows would glide across
My apartment windows

As they can in the new sun.
The neighbors children then arouse
My attention of the new-born day

Drumming their feet to the morning
song of “ready-for-school”.
Often I am unsure of the coming wings and shadows,

Looking to see how sun, moon and stars close themselves
only to open, come then quietly slip away under
the rug of light and how their voices echo in darkness.

Slowly, I too rise to this new day.