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 translate.
The river’s surprisingly wide here
and you can’t even see the dead fish
or the waste from the plants up river,
its just a silver sheet of water
and the slashing of the wipers
and that name no one can translate.
First appeared in Calliope 21:1, 1997
The river ignores us
for yet another day,
flowing despite our presence,
knowing the lake awaits.
As the rain lets up,
the sun appears
and sets the water ablaze
demanding our attention
and we gladly give it.
As our jacket shed
the last of the cloudy gifts,
the wind reminds us
that this moment
is one we will not
ever see again.
It has rained for uncounted days on end
and we half expect one of our neighbors
to begin building an ark, so we look
through the falling drops for pets to line up
in double file ranks, seeking selection
for a journey they know must be coming.
Overhead, the dove sits in the maple
knowing his time to star will soon arrive
but unsure where there could possibly be
a Russian olive tree within flight range
but then, as the sewer drains overflow
he knows any branch will complete his work.
The sun finally appeared this morning
and the weatherman now predicts a drought.
A clouded night sky
hide and seek moon
Rain holds back
In deep laughter
trees sigh in response
A heron poses
standing on a single leg
We watch jealously
There is a heaviness to the sky
a weightiness belied
by the gray of the clouds,
even the departing sun
seems to whisper that it
will be replaced by rain in short order.
You feel the weight bearing down,
as the heat of the day dissipates,
and although the first drops
have not yet fallen, you know
that it is best to be within
when the rain begins
for it will do so without warning
and with little care
for your presence,
for this is how Spring
demands your attention.
On this night the moon
should be new or full, the sun
should reflect on this
More than a billion
stars will fill the sky tonight
I see just a few
Evening clouds gather
staring down on the city
From twenty stories up
the fully fogged sky,
a translucent gray curtain
hung from an angry black ceiling.
and the streets below fade
into misty oblivion.
Even the approaching dusk
sits back in wonder.