Solstice

The solstice nears.
The darkest day of the year
becomes Manhattan, a city
most fetching at night.
She throws on her finery,
windows x-ray the diamond
bones of her skyline.
The sun is lowered
into it’s vault.
Worklights peer into the cavity
of Ground Zero, an autopsy tourists
think it's their duty to watch.
In the distance, beneath the vanquished stars,
a tiny glint of orange: the frozen torch of liberty
blazing it’s warning against the airplanes in the night.