A Poem: Daydreams-on-Hudson

We pause beside our river
watch the daydreams dance and bob—
mine, yours, whoever’s
the loner’s or the mob’s
the lap dog looking for relief
the riders of that honking train …
Let all streak by like howls of grief
or joy, or like a sweet refrain.

Let billows wax grandiloquent,
then bust up into tiny drops.
Let water be our sacrament.
Let’s scheme and laugh and never stop,
for days are short and friendships rare
and suns keep sinking everywhere.

This article appears in November 2012.