... word from the East Village
you asked me how things are.
I now live in a quiet, even for
a ghost town, streets walked
by the masked, all keep their
There are still the noise makers
and air breathers, mask sneerers.
There are no readings to attend,
books to buy, the Libraries
now empty rooms.
Yet the parks oasis upon oasis.
Still to enjoy the great Elms, the
summer bird migration and that
chance of catching a darling bird
with a shutters click.
Then home to walk my hallways,
read my own books, then sit before
this one eyed God, who lets me
share with ones too far away.
Photos by peter radley