Central Park Walk November 2022

1
It’s crisp but not yet glove weather.
Elongated shadows fall from the autumn sun.
Above the sky is so blue it looks unreal.

2
People are seated along the path, faces turned up toward the sun.
Construction workers eat their lunches together in Spanish.
Empty benches line the shaded side of the street.

3
Girls in short plaid school uniforms drift in bunches.
A couple walks slowly, holding hands.
A nanny sings softly to the child in her carriage.

4
Dogs wait patiently as their owners chat.
Squirrels chase each other, rustling leaves and bouncing branches.
Birds call in many languages; I only see sparrows and starlings.

5
The remains of the Marathon are piled up along Fifth Avenue.
Vestiges of Halloween decorations still linger on buildings.
Pine cones and needles mingle with oak leaves on the ground.

Brendan at earthweal discussed this week the intimacy of our landscapes. He suggested “a walk on the wild side”. This is not exactly a wild walk, but it’s my landscape, where I often go both to get from Point A to Point B here in the city, and to get outside of myself.

Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by Sanaa.

October

The Oracle is feeling the chill in the air. This morning is grey and cooler than recent days.

The collage is another piece of art I found while cleaning. Painted and ripped rice paper–I guess I didn’t like the original watercolors. I don’t remember it at all.

wind rustles secrets through trees–
how my roots long for
a blanket with leaves seeded
by a moon garden

every season asks us why
we follow the same
path of lonely wandering
instead of singing

(lost) treasure

lost treasure s

each season
knows that its costumes
must be re
moved, decay
ing all at once to fleetingly
encircle the end

the old sub
tracted, the new feigns
silence as
it changes
into breath—colors conjured,
spilled, yielding to time

recrossing
the same distances
to return
to waiting,
awakening—each day be
stowed, ripened, revoked

A shadorma sequence for Colleen’s #tankaTuesday words, fall and give.

lost treasure close up s

The nights here are cool, but the days are still mired in summer.