Right in between the Mangoes and the Oranges it was lying there. Today was the open market on the busy street. Merchants were calling out to one another and calling in new customers to buy their local fare. Jackie had her scarves on an old wooden table, their colors vibrant against the dark wood behind it. Marc had his seemingly one-of-a-kind photos that were sold on every street corner of New York, and Klio had her open fruit market. The steam from the black street swept the bottoms of their feet making the rest of their body seem cooler than the sun had lead them on to be. People in their Sunday best and worst made their way out to the street. Each with money in their hands seeing which stand would draw them in, seeing a spark of color drawing them closer and closer. But on this Sunday in July as the sun beat down in between the high building, the Falcon saw something. Something small and shiny in between the Mangoes and the Oranges that made it turn attention to it while no tourists would take notice. Ruffling its black-brown feathers that the local soot had gotten to it dove toward the glinting object as Klio had her back turned talking to a confused tourist with broken English. Flying between the empty streets and packed buildings to it’s nest on top of the towering buildings. A small ring with a large rock, to keep in its nest as a beacon, to attract a mate.
Posts Tagged ‘New York’