MARATHON DAY

The silence of November mornings, the sky still dreaming

But not bruised like Winter sullen.

Few people on the street, with the exception of the guy

strolling his luggage, the unfortunate sleeping in his self-made cave 

and the guy sweeping outside the deli.

I hear the pigeons distinctly, the leaves have changed colors,

I sense them walk past me from the force of morning brisk.

The cities non peak hours offer all that people hope for in

The countryside, plus character.

I can’t help delighting, sidewalks covered in fall, tall buildings,

Warehouses. All silent for maybe another hour, before turning

into something else.

Before chaos ensues and we are rushing past one another, impatient

At the tourist looking up.

Before we hop on the subway, shoulder to shoulder, listening to

Someone disrupt our peace.

The city before 7 AM is lovely. 

This morning, I had music on, Top Diesel by Beele, when I felt the 

Energy. It told me to remove my headphones and embrace the wind

That spoke to me. 

My rhythm changed. My steps a bit more measured, I saw the obsidian Honda 

Turning the corner, I recognized a tattoo shop I hadn’t seen before above the KFC.

I laughed to myself about the time a colleague told me she is scared to death of 

Pigeons in a city full of them.

Even the L on Myrtle is relatively silent before 7 AM. 

By the time I exited the station on Bedford, life was busy again, its Marathon Day

In New York City.

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Gilbert Diaz is a school counselor and poet from Washington Heights, New York. Influenced by the city, martial arts, and travel to over 40 countries, his writing explores identity, resilience, and place. He draws inspiration from love, books, podcasts, politics, and the everyday rhythms of New York life.