Morning poems in the city

The song of sanitation workers in the morning, when you gently lift the veil of the city and let the whole city lie in your palm, the city is your street, and your crisp birdsong is yours, and you are the richest man. You sing with simple body language every day. You hear the city, the birds in the street and the birds in the branches. You are the quietest singer. At the corner, you bow your head like a bridge. The sparkling sweat, bronzed face and the back painted with mature glaze by the sunset are the most beautiful scenery in this city. You are the most beautiful person.