A waking town. The ballet of the streets.
as Hudson River ice. She watched.
the sheets and blankets billowed in its wake.
as he placed his folding chair out in the sun.
each morning ritual said we're here, we're open.
Greenwich Village breathed out, stretched its limbs.
drew neighbours' smiles with a toy mandolin.
of hurried doors, a stroll across the grass.
Everywhere she watched, the city rang.
the city's temperature in a single glass.
One watching woman, with thick specs.
and stood. She stopped expressways in their tracks.