Sprung

The pigeons sing some ridiculous song
as the sun lights rainbows on the slicks on the street.
The rats convene down the most local alley
gnawing on their most delicious found meat.

The city’s alive with a desperate hunger,
a yearning for Spring that has almost arrived.
The sidewalks are filled with combustible vigor
with every inch of existence alive.

I thank this feast of the senses around me
even including that old garbage stink and the look of abandoned folks, living on corners asking for cash with a slur and a wink.

The world is a wonder when I care to listen
so seasonally rare that I choose to take chance
but today is a day I can listen to thunder
and recognize an invitation to dance.

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