Walk Seventeen - HUDSON RIVER | CHRISTMAS

A small bridge curves into forever

on 34th street,

where the hill falls

into the Hudson River

and along the slanted street,

in between 11th and 12th avenue,

six shiny, naked black trees

are hugged, tight, by yellow fairy lights.

Stepping down the hill,

and watching the “full picture”

I see a group of birds burst

through the image

and two people in black coats,

and black hats,

walking along the river trail

Their bodies forge

through the white clouds,

blue sky, while the river whispers

beside them

This Christmas Day is warm enough,

but mellow enough

for me to look at the sky

without squinting;

for the sun has hung back

giving us a chance to see

Walking along the runners lane,

through a gate,

I spot swaying pompous grass

and notice a small shed,

behind the tall beige grass,

that has hanging dried flowers

on its back inside wall

I gasp

The dried purple,

brown, beige,

that was probably once white,

hangs upside down.

A family of five walk toward me

in the opposite lane,

and a big bulge of light

bursts through the cloudy sky,

over their heads

and into my eyes

The sun speaks through

the natural order of day,

which barricaded its appearance

“I’m still here,” she says.

When I make it past the barrier,

I finally get closer to the river;

and by the time I reach 29th street,

I stop at a lengthy gate,

hearing the river’s swashes

The sound saturates through the iron,

which echos the water’s song

It’s rolling music is effortless

beneath the grate.

Right over the railing,

the sky’s light falls across the river,

rolling down to the very end

where the structure

of the pier holds the water

I watch and listen to the water

push against the long rocks

that peek out of the water’s dance.

I approach a crowd of large geese

sitting behind a green plastic gate

that separates people

from the span of grass

Suddenly, group by group

the geese loudly fly

over the gate,

over the railing,

and into the water