i
There is a moment to be savored
shut away from city bruits all seems gray
and still-sleeping
a necromancer’s hand
laid upon a queen’s bed
ripples and flat shapes that are
not yet a field of trees and a mirrored lake.
ii
A hundred hundred glissandi
and the world goes Gershwin
and a thousand thousand kid’s balloons
fill the flushed sky
bubbling clouds
import a morning glory
bursting
into city song
iii
You’re there
I know you are
looking with young eyes
at those rising oblongs
(it took a dollar-mad imagination
and the fearless girder-traipsing Mohawks
to build them up from nothing)
as the balloons
fade out into the morning haze
the time comes
for Tropicana
toast
tea or coffee
a day to face
of yellow taxis
bustling sidewalks
snatches of Italian song
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
I can't even begin to describe 
