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.