My son who lives in Brooklyn
tells me that each night at 7:00
he and his neighbors open their windows
to clap and hoot and bang on pots and pans
to celebrate the day's first responders,
gifting them with an alchemy of homemade
noises given to spin exhaustion and sorrow
into something gleaming and gold.
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1 comment:
I always feel a sense of good-will when I see people on their balconies clapping, serenading, interacting. Thank you for this.
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