The moon's business is done
as the sun rises to the sound of birds chirping,
coloring the sky with soft, cotton candy pastels.
Friends gather to run,
the exercise jarring bodies awake
before the day's duties begin.
The path is clear,
the air crisp,
the chatter constant,
as feet pound the pavement and breaths quicken.
We cross a river in this city of bridges;
from below, geese honk out commands in formation.
The glassy waters speaks peace,
the previous days' wild winds forgotten
in her clear reflection
of the shore's trees and structures.
An endless train clickety-clacks to its destination,
the rhythms of city life continuing
around the clock.
Skyscrapers in the distance reflect the sunlight
in metallic splendor,
the bridge before them a faithful sentinel.
Barges remind of the time this city was dominated by
steel, smoke, and smog.
Shores previously lined with filthy factories
now replaced
by sleek office buildings,
popular restaurants,
lovely walking trails.
Nature and industry dancing through history
in this city I called home,
this beautiful city I call home.
