Sirens of Manhattan

The sirens of Manhattan
Make a sound we always hear,
Alerting all pedestrians
And traffic to stay clear.

It’s background noise that city folk
Don’t pay attention to,
The urban version of a field
Of cows all saying, “Moo.”

It doesn’t matter if the sound’s
From ambulance or police
Or fire engine; in a minute,
Urgency will cease.

New Yorkers will not raise their heads
To note the siren’s screech
Unless it stops right where they are,
A safety zone-type breach.

Then curiosity kicks in
And nosiness runs riot
Although, by then, the sirens have
Quite naturally, gone quiet.