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For Alex and Sarah

The slow motion soundtrack of Spring

Is of fervent excavators, insistent sirens, impatient horns

And the clattering treble of a daisy chained kindergarten

On-the-move and cute in red tabards.

Today the advance guard Easter daffodils

Are parading their yellow and green colors

On recovering lawns

Beneath as yet un-resurrected London planes.

In this theater, my seat is in the southern stalls

From where I watch a transitional stage project all this,

But also what has gone before:

Pre-colonial wilderness; retreating bluecoats;

The grieving tears of mourning families in a potter’s field,

The war cries of abolitionists,

The clattering of the elevated ghost train,

Protesting voices for peace and love,

And the sounds of the Midtown zone of No-Go.

Enjoying now the simple comfort of a bistro seat

-Mobile and thus empowering say the philosophers of public space-

I sit cozily inside this waffle-boarded open topped box

Contemplating scarves and sunglasses,

The fine old library, the resting carousel

The stiletto Chrysler, the taller Empire State and above all,

Feeling grateful for the park of William Cullen Bryant.