My City

My city is a wondrous beast,

That lives and dies every day.

I see it breathe with the rising of the sun.

I see it die when all goes quiet.

Unforgiving and cold in the winter,

Shining, filled with promise in the summer.

A great dragon is my city in the cold.

It rips the earth it walks upon,

Bringing the ants below it screaming into the world.

The towers of gray steel and blinding glass, so magnificent,

Are the ridges on its back.

Skyscraper spires, the bone spurs in its wings.

The factories are its lungs, expelling noxious smoke.

Dark, secret alleyways and busy streets are its scales.

Long highways its vessels, rushing cars its cells.

I hear it roar in their persistent honks, their piercing sirens.

Groan and grumble, click and clack with its trains.

Each dark tunnel, a part of its gaping maw.

My city is a glorious phoenix in the summer,

Fires burning bright in the morning.

It rises from night's grey ashes,

Challenges the world with a beautiful song.

I hear it in the cheerful chirps of sparrows,

The sharp screams of the jay.

It roosts in the verdant parks,

Each blade of grass a feather of flame,

Every tree blooms like its golden plumage.

I see it the colorful displays of the Square,

As thousands flock to behold its beauty.

A beacon of hope, strength and rebirth.