Walk swiftly in the wet November day,
On the sidewalk that is pink from the sun,
Somewhere in New York.
Watch puddles tremble in the street
As the cars move over them.
You hold your jacket tight around you,—
It is soft and warm against your body
And the wind is cold across your cheeks.
Traffic lights glow green and red,
And the street lights are yellow.
And you walk slowly, slowly.
It has stopped raining and your head is bare.
Listen to your footsteps on the wet November sidewalk.
Watch the lights go on in buildings.
Like puddles on the asphalt street.
Like the noise of traffic
Muted by the rain.
From Definition #5 (Definition Press)
© 1961 by Eli Siegel