A line that travels down the middle of the scene
divides the picture’s plane in two: above, the vast
and airy openess o’ th’ arching building, green
on top, and filled with golden light and shadows cast
between huge windows, flag, and architectured space,
as if some grand, extr’ordinary thing has passed;
below, a central clock shows twelve noon on its face,
about which wind a multitude of people, things,
and acts, so many are occurring in that place,
oh, all the patterns ordinary living brings,
hushed, talking, rushing, walking, pausing, gesturing,
like skaters in a rink, all moving round in rings.

 

 

Featured Image: “Grand Central Terminal: An Early December Noon in the Main Concourse” by Stone Roberts

Related Post

‘Riddle Two’ and Other Poetry by Michelle Tamara...   Riddle Two Now give these lines a gander Be you bold enough to try Find fun, full-fashioned candor Take care. Some smart cells may fry ...

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.