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)