Brooklyn

Brooklyn

by Ella Truesdale

 

Summer heat

Yellow heat

Dusty and tired

Slumps through the heavy morning air

While the sun glares

Like a jaundiced eye.

A faint blanket of smog still hugs the city

When I climb out of bed

And haul open the window

To be greeted

By the snarl of traffic

And the shouts of pedestrians.

They sound tinny

And metallic

The limping breeze smells like exhaust.

Your bedsheets are bright white

Crisp and clean

The sun makes them glow

As your eyes blink open.

I have seen those eyes

More times than I can count

They have always been blue as flowers.

You lift your head

And give me a sleepy smile.

Hello, city

Your heart has awakened.