A Morning’s Walk in Cleveland Park

A robin takes flight, a young skinny worm in its beak.

A coven of daisies whispers before a house.

A tree finds itself tightly embraced by twines of kudzu.

And a universe of birds unseen makes music in the trees.

But who am I to attempt a pastoral poem?

Born in a suburb, bread on a love for cities,

Yearning for subways, for skyscrapers,

And streets packed with pedestrians,

For the cacophony of car horns,

For the loud swoosh of cars passing in the rain,

And herds of taxi cabs hurrying on their way,

For the hardness of sidewalks,

The call of street vendors,

And the sound of a hundred languages wafting my way

As I breeze past them on my way to

Nowhere in particular.

JESSIE SEIGEL