Birds awake to find their chorus carries
further than before. The sky full of silence,
not steel. The last topping-off ceremony
bottle had popped. An overlooked cork,
the only litter on otherwise pristine streets.
All cables, pipes laid to rest. Potholes raised
so to be erased. Diggers and cranes retired
to yards on outskirts where bored foremen
will choreograph mechanical ballets
for suddenly social crane drivers.
Cones re-employed as beacons. A clarion
call for unoccupied dwellings, breathing
new life into the buildings. They mingle
as if at a family function. The grotesque
features of the old, beautifully reflect
in the high-glossed naivety of youth.
Effortlessly they dance together, tiptoeing
through free-flowing thoroughfares.
New perspectives dawn on spectators
whose shadows cast at irregular angles.