THE WIND...A Pantoum

THE WIND...A Pantoum


I turned around and went out,
mistaking the wind for your voice.
Here I am, I cried.
And I danced in its arms with delight.

Mistaking the wind for your voice,
the breeze started pushing me back,
and I danced in its arms with delight.
Why would I need any more?

The breeze started pushing me back,
a beat surged in my blood.
Why would I need any more
to keep my ardor going forever?

A beat surged in my blood,
I felt your hand in mine
to keep my ardor going forever.
Did you know you were at my side?

I felt your hand in mine,
it's been this way before.
Did you know you were at my side
or has my dream just faded away?

It's been this way before.
Here I am, I cried.
Or has my dream just faded away?
I turned around and went out.


A Pantoum is a poetic form that first appeared in the 15th Century, in Malaysia.  It can be of indefinite length and is made up of specific repetition.


@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


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Sparrows

RESPECT
x
City sparrows don't care.
There I sit
in the early autumn park,
on a bench,
shaking a handful of keys
at the birds walking round my ankles.
x
As if they'll really hop on my hand.
Trust me, I have good intentions!
x
Two, almost touching my shoe,
look through me,
not knowing that I'm channeling
St. Francis of Assisi,
x
"My brothers, Birds, you should praise your Creator".
x
I'm ignored.
Feathers not even twitching,
they fly,
carried on the wind.
x
They know a saint when they see one.
x
x
copyright/ all rights reserved

A Walk In The Park

THIS IS THE VIEW OF THE CITY THAT I SEE ALMOST EVERY DAY. The body of water is the Reservoir, and the view is towards the West Side of Central Park. I am standing at an East Side point, having just climbed a few steps to the path, which circles the reservoir. Runners and walkers take over the path all day long, around and around. I hesitate to take this route. Usually do some stretches and stare at the incredible early morning view. I'm inspired by all the effort, and calmed by the harmony of it all.

Today there was a battle between the trees and the wind. Leaves were persistent, held fast to the branches, too early in the approaching season to let go just yet. What compares to the sound of shaking, rustling leaves? I can't quite find that music anywhere else.

x

Cool at 63 degrees this morning. An early fall? We sometimes reach that temperature on a special day in the winter, and say,"My, it's hot today"! But today's 63 seems to be an entry to fall.

x

I'm holding on to my pink New York Yankees cap, feels as if it will be swept off my head, become airborne. Dozens of sparrows skitter on the ground, and in the air. A fat breasted pigeon walks close to my steps, spotting a crumb. Many folks eat in the park, drop food intentionally, or by accident. The birds know that there's a never ending supply, have the nerve to walk closely to those of us who share their space. I talk to them, they don't mind. The original tweeters.

x

I sit on a park bench, close to the 90th Street/ Fifth Ave. entrance. A plaque is fixed to the back of the bench, this one paying respect to the beloved Iris. Anyone can have a plaque placed on a park bench to honor a loved one, or a moment in time. I thought that I would like that sort of memorial to be placed on a bench someday for me. I could even slip some money to my friends and family to tack one up when the time comes. Then I found out how much it would be. $7500. Not so fast. Guess I'll have to count on good memories alone. I told a friend to write my name in the sand. Remember, no energy is ever lost.