Lindsay Niemann

Hillcroft

(Bird’s eye view)

Stationed on high,

(where rooftops steal my view)

a familiar city sprawls

shrouded in populous,

 concrete trees and asphalt gardens.

Colored lights

reflect off a glass-sided skyscraper.

Sirens send pigeons into a frenzy.

They too seek shelter.

A Sunday afternoon,

But to the man outside

standing under a bridge

 holding his cardboard resume in hand,

this means nothing.

Along with passing cell phone traffic,

I pretend not to notice.

Vacant spaces occupy swarming parking lots,

and upon Monday's arrival,

They will all be put to good use.

Upon Monday’s arrival

My familiar alarm assures me,

“It's time to join them.”