Feeling like a country mouse
outside of my element.
Peeking through the curtains
of our seventh floor hotel room.
Marveling at the quiet streets below.
Neither creature nor car was stirring
at 8 A.M. on a Sunday morning.
The quiet after the storm to be sure.
The city streets had been alive
in the night with sirens and car horns
and shouts and spontaneous bursts of revelry. 
The silence was almost eerie after the 
cacophony that preceded it. 
Sunday morning and the city sleeps.