A Stroll at Dusk

The other side of the East River

I hear the tides of the Sound

Leaves whistling, flowers trembling

and brown stones shimmering at twilight

Everything is quivering,

like struck by a Cupid’s arrow

mellowing out in sweet sorrow

Lights off

and on

Lady Columbia puts on her night gown

in a gossamer of Cabernet Sauvigon

A nightingale sings

through the darkness of the Ravine

intoxicating Broken Land