POETRY

Bryant Park

November haze envelopes me
and all wanderers
lost in the cold park
by the waterless fountain
imploring the betraying trees
to hold tightly to lingering leaves
which rightly nightly leave

light fading on my scrawl
and all jabbering scamps
scuffling rolled up trouser cuffs
catching dusty disintegrating
memories of sylvan summer
sun in our city of purpose

conversations without sound
abound beneath the mausoleum of books
ancient attitudes surround
triangular tree pointing to the star
at it’s pinnacle which
just now illuminates

So too the secular
dimmed sentinels
ringing our retreat
come on spire by spire
inspiring courage confidence
to survive the night
our battle against
the failing light
the coming dark and cold

m. landers 11/03