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

His hands, grasp an accordion
stretched wide—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, spraying

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