Leaning against a tunnel wall
in busy New York City Grand Central corridor

His hands, grasp an accordion
stretched wide—it is a lung

He continually feeds it with air
As it expands and contracts, its reeds

Release a husky sound
a message to all

Commuters are always in a hurry
yet he sings a song and imagines

the air leaving this squeezebox
may just resuscitate one person

Like a whale with blow hole
in a vast ocean, releasing its spray

mist against a concrete sky.
he stands alone—organ man,

Lone wolf,
howling in the night

Those who dare look up
will see the moon

— Abraham Menashe
© 2017