On my recent trip to NYC, I walked across Central Park on my way to The Frick Collection. As I walked along, I did as I often do and stopped and took pictures and stood and observed much of the beauty in garden settings. What is so special about a place like Central Park is the contrast in settings. In the middle of the hustle and bustle, the traffic, the construction are these areas of “urban solitude”. A quietness that you can almost hear. I stopped and stood before these columbines, a flower I dearly love and was introduced to thousands of miles away in Colorado, many years ago. Well, here is a poem I have been sitting with since I stopped and tarried in front of that bloom.
Deliberate steps through Central Park
towards a mansion of art along nature’s
own acceptance of concrete streams
I stumble not of foot but more of spirit
When this columbine I see
With blooms drooping down I quietly ponder
Are they praying so humble or achingly sad
A whisper separates the crimson and gold
Amongst the green of life displayed
That tear of yellow on red
To stand and pause before these blooms
As soon I will stand before frames upon walls
And ask those questions of man that now
I ask of nature out here
Inside the mansion so full of blooms to view
Faces drooped and skyward raised
Prayers and hope and burdens shared
I sense questions but answers spared
The Curious Table 