From Where I Look

Damn
It is a cold New York
Windy Cold with run away rain clouds dissipating
Running towards the sea and waving goodbye
To Lady Liberty
As this ethereal sunrise colored orange
Lights the sky

I am taking photos
Way the fuck up on a rooftop
Looking at the Williamsburg Bridge
Straddling the East River
My tri-podded  camera pointed into
The bunching of buildings
Being painted
Being highlighted
Slapped mightily awake at sunrise

The sky fights back with some residual blues
Blues with a thumping beat
Storm clouds still reluctant to leave
Being evicted by the wind against their will
Giving me a palette that stretches across
My lens and then back again

How far I can see and still see almost nothing
Most of the skyline is no more than a pattern to me
Names of buildings totally unknown
I am not a New Yorker and if I was
I would hope that I would still be able to see
The shapes and patterns
Conforming to the sky, melting around the skyscrappers
Intruding in their playground

The sunrise eats heartily into the last remaining colors
The oranges, blues and pinks are replaced
By colors less daunting, less vibrant
Still beautiful,  but more restrained
I am shivering and breaking down my tripod
Heading towards the door into warmth
But I take one more quick look
And see a glint from the tallest skyscrapper
Message to someone else
Who is hanging around for a bit longer
No longer concerned with me