Rush

Grim-faced and forbidding,
Their faces closed tight,
An angular mass of New Yorkers
Pacing in rhythm,
Race the oncoming night,
They chase through the streets of Manhattan.
Headfirst humanity,
Pause at a light,
Then flow through the streets of the city.
They seem oblivious
To a soft spring rain,
Like an English rain
So light, yet endless
From a leaden sky.
The buildings are lost in the limitless rise.
My feet catch the pulse and the purposeful stride.
I feel the sense of possibilities,
I feel the wrench of hard realities.