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Bryant Park in March

Its winter, yet across the street
The bistro tables line the lawn
Like soldiers on parade replete
Bedecked and ordered, quarter-drawn.

A scrap of plastic billows now,
Ensnared by Zephyr's sylvan gasp,
A sail o'er ocean-faring bow
Encased in earthbound tree's cold clasp.

While ant-like people scurry round
In jackets dyed in brilliant hues
Their dance a thing of charm profound -
Ordered steps in chaos' shoes.

It's winter, yet, across the street
The birth of Spring with joy I greet.

By The Rambler

© 2013 The Rambler (All rights reserved)


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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - PERHAPS THE FUTURE HOLDS A PLACE (challenge has been closed)

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