The Millennial Pedestrian

Now that Central Park is 175 miles away, future posts may focus on the process of adjustment to a new home. For instance, here’s something that takes some getting used to: I can see the sky and what’s in it.

Moon Over Providence

Late at night, a full moon hovers over Providence.
Platinum blonde, its grave fluorescence
Washes over asphalt rooftops
And dims the pumpkin-orange streetlights
Festooned all up and down the city’s seven hills.

Indoors, the raking moonbeams turn our carpet
Into a stubbled field. I think I hear an owl;
Is that a fleeing field mouse squealing?
The shadows are so sharp and blue and long,
The quiet so pervasive here in Providence at night.

I must have dozed … the moon has moved a bit
And now a rag of cloud flies across its face.
Below, a racing patch of nighttime blackens
First one hill, then another, approaching fast.
It is on me now. And now my rug is just a rug;
The hooting owl, the frightened mouse
The wheezing of some vent or plumbing.
But I am awake for good.