Siren Song
Here’s to the clamor, the clatter, the cacophony,
The ring-’round-the block roaring,
The thrumming and thumping
Echoing off bricks, cement, glass, steel,
Sounds colliding with sounds,
The clang of ladles against pot tops,
The clacking of claves,
Tones bent and stretched,
A penny whistle warbling,
An electric guitar plugged in and amped up,
A trumpet blaring and screeching,
A two-finger whistle piercing,
But always the shouting
And the cheering
And the hooting
And the howling
And the clapping
And the yelling
And the clapping
And the shrieking
And the clapping
And the clapping and the
Ovation,
From terraces and rooftops,
Out of open windows,
From the sidewalks,
Joined by horn blasts from buses, taxis, trucks,
From every vehicle passing by . . .
And, swirling through the heartfelt bedlam,
Blending together the rollicking brew:
A siren’s blare and flashing lights —
A hero’s serenade —
Galvanizing our set-upon spirits
And revitalizing this beleaguered city.