The cold sun rises on the empty square;
No occupants now where the ground is bare.
Around it all a hasty chain-link fence,
Keeps out unwanted squatters’ tents.
Just yesterday to patches green and blue,
Police came, “Move or we’ll move you!”
Hastily tarps and poles, blankets folded,
And clothing, precious items bundled.
“It’s bitter cold. where shall we go?”
To quick retorts, “Just get out now!
You can’t stay here; here take your stuff.
If not, we’ll throw it in the dump.”
At noon beside that spot great ironies,
As bureaucrats spoke of homelessness,
While those on the move again were witness,
To city council’s empty shelter promises.
All around sit vacant heated buildings,
Winter warmed to keep pipes from bursting,
But unable to house the freezing horde,
Unavailable due to NIMBY’s bitter word.
