PRESENT IN AUTUMN

Slender, clean, heels clacking

against the NYC pavement

Weed smoke ripples through the air

New York shakes its trees

on Beach street

where there’s no beach,

but a park filled with rustling leaves

Pharmacies, liquor stores,

and furniture stores rest

across the street

A short man, a tall woman,

and a long-legged dog all skip home

A gentle breeze kisses me, sings to me

while neighbors plan their tomorrow

A slanted tree rests before me,

its open hand reaching out

baring its rusty (almost) yellow leaves

to the black sky

A bush waves itself behind my back

and leaves have almost fallen

through a pothole

Tall buildings and lit-up windows

scatter, lain about

Trader Joe’s a moment away

Half the park’s leaves

are shredded sheets of green-ish gray;

the other half withering a crunchy yellow

New York is the warmest it’ll be

for the rest of the year

before it splits open and bares its wrath

of concerns held in the heat of Spring,

as chilled sentiments

We’ll each be shivering,

though no withering

We’ll stay the course

It’ll be a miracle

when the daffodils sprout again

and we begin to smell the hyacinths

as their heads grow petal by petal