The tree with the lights in it.

22 January 2019


2 JANUARY 2019

The cheap stroller jams repeatedly between uneven sidewalk segments
My cold hands grip the handles — situated a couple of inches too low to accommodate good posture
My daughter chants vowel sounds to the drone of the plastic wheels on concrete
A canvas bag falls from my shoulder and swings at my elbow as I push along the city blocks
Charlie scans for children and playgrounds as I parade her past landmarks of my New York past
We slip inside St. Mark’s Church where dancers are stretching before a rehearsal
I pause to take a picture of Peter Stuyvesant in the courtyard outside
A picture I’ve taken before when a fresh rose was laid below the bust
I watched her place it there before she headed out through the wrought iron gates and into the city night.