Eyes slap open

With the crack of the jackhammer

It’s 9 AM

Monday in the City

I rush over to close the small gap

In the window

The loud crash of shovels

Iron cast on asphalt

Giant machines with splendid

Saws, jacks, and hammers

Traffic held back

While the men hit the ground

With cement hammers

The window to the city

Has shown so much to me

It is a true story

Yet an untold anomaly

Of jackhammers

I grew up in the soft quiet fields on Indiana

Acquaint myself

To the new sounds

Of my surroundings