New York City, Summer 1975

We wanted to go to the beach–
it’s within reach–
New York coastline–
capacious, fine.

We were young; we stayed up all night–
before the light,
starting to drive–
happy, alive.

The sun rose, the ocean was near–
we parked the car–
the sky was blue,
the people few.

Undaunted by sunburn, we slept–
our bodies wet,
salty from waves–
those were the days.

The W3 prompt poem this week is Britta Benson’s “Longing for Water”. She asked that our response include the name of a city and asked us to use a form appropriate for that city. I wrote a Minute Poem, in reflection of “a New York minute”, which is a very brief span of time. Looking back at my 20s it truly was all over in a New York minute. Lacking technology, we never took photos or tried to document our lives then. We just lived them.

Although I always collected shells.

26 thoughts on “New York City, Summer 1975

    1. I definitely like things about the internet, but we need to move back and find a balance. There’s a lot to be said for not always being “connected” and readily available.

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            1. I know–I’m so glad my working years escaped that. My oldest always has to be checking her work phone. The younger one deliberately took a job without that feature. Less money, more time.

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  1. Feeling overwhelmed by perpetual connection at the moment, this is a hugely restful post… When I’m able to travel again I intend to bring home more sketches and writings and not even bother with photos. I know I’d benefit more from the experience both in the moment and after, and a journal doesn’t require being charged constantly!

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    1. It’s only recently I started remembering to take my phone with me–really the last 5 years. We need to stop expecting everyone to be always available, and let go of this need to document every moment of our lives…of course easier said than done at this point. But we’ve lost the moment.

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  2. I especially love the seashell drawing.
    I can relate to the desire to be connected to nature and to the hours of the day I’m living, or connected to the breeze, or to the sounds of the resident birds, even connected to the line coming out of the end of a crayon.

    I’ll be the first to praise computers, miracle devices, but all these other things are better!

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  3. Your poem reminds me of the feeling I had reading Anne Morrow Lindberg’s book “Gift from the Sea” ages ago. I need to reread it.

    Hadn’t thought about the book in a long time & then the memory of it comes rushing back.

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