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RIVER CROSSING
We crossed the Hudson this afternoon on a Dutch named bridge in a driving rain so strong you could hear little over the beat of the wipers throwing sheets of water. You wondered why the superstructure was only on the Eastern end. I wondered why they had to have a Dutch name no one can…
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GULL TIME
Along the river this morning, the gulls stood on fence stanchions watching the parade of walkers, runners, bikers like them ignoring the river, intent on logging the daily miles, oblivious to the panorama that lies just beyond our closely focussed eyes. The gulls offer a piercing commentary, and that is something we notice, and so…
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an old writer and his words 