There is a kind of lace laid over the City, a lightness
The airiness of those in love
Not with each other but with their work.
I see it and am moved by it,
The serious merriment of women who laugh
Not with self-depreciation but with pride,
Slow stalking, leaders with round limbs
Moving easily, at last
Among the black pipestems,
The piston whips of anger
They have their own necessities, and follow them
Like gliders in the sky, with such clarity
When they have caressed a problem
Just long enough to control it they take off,
Over the perpendicular forests of the City I see them
In all their beautiful calm, stretched out
The superior lift of their wings lifts the heart.
