I'm snapping my fingers...

Composed upon Brooklyn Bridge, July 6, 2003
How the city’s infinite motions seem stilled
in the sun’s horizontal blue gaze–her tips
and contraptions, her manifold upright lips’
lisp of steel and breath on sky, her curved sill
of shoreline, bridged and built as if the mills
of God have been replaced by quicker equipment,
her people heading home; now, before the dip
of the sun spills red, how this equal light wills
me to see the whole as one. For an instant,
her interlocking parts of bedrock and air,
asphalt and wind, metal and flesh, infant
cries of traffic and windows’ crowded state–
all these seem to pause and fuse, a jubilant
pair of mighty lungs with breath upheld in prayer.