all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming...
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes
e.e. cummings
The traditional flora and fauna of the Upper West Side couldn't care less about a coronavirus. While humans huddle in their homes, birds, bees, dogs and rodents enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime springtime of clean air, quiet streets, and parks with fewer people.
At the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, the albino peacock shakes his tail feathers and brazenly charges an eager photographer who moves too close for comfort. "OK, OK," says the human, backing up hastily. I thought we were friends.
Rats run around the deserted sidewalks at night, diving into sewer grates or disappearing into cracks in the wall. Baby rats offer the flaneur a special frisson -- cute yet vile. Entirely cute, but even more destructive than the rats, baby raccoons will soon stick their noses out of the stone wall at the top of Riverside Park. Soon they'll be picking garbage out of park bins, or climbing to the top of the wall to sniff the pizza slices left by their admirers.
Meanwhile Governor Andy orders draconian new rules for New Yorkers to stay home, except for essential tasks like walking their dogs or feeding the raccoons. These are the same rules he ridiculed when Mayor Bill proposed them.
Bill is now trying to suck up to Andy by blaming everything on Class President Donny. He throws a tantrum, accusing Donny of betraying his own home town because Donny won't order the Army to hand over its medical supplies. People are gonna die! wails Bill.
Donny loves this, he thinks it's funny. In his Queens English he proclaims: "We're not a shipping clerk."
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of ...
-- Copyright 2020 by Tom Phillips
At the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, the albino peacock shakes his tail feathers and brazenly charges an eager photographer who moves too close for comfort. "OK, OK," says the human, backing up hastily. I thought we were friends.
Rats run around the deserted sidewalks at night, diving into sewer grates or disappearing into cracks in the wall. Baby rats offer the flaneur a special frisson -- cute yet vile. Entirely cute, but even more destructive than the rats, baby raccoons will soon stick their noses out of the stone wall at the top of Riverside Park. Soon they'll be picking garbage out of park bins, or climbing to the top of the wall to sniff the pizza slices left by their admirers.
Meanwhile Governor Andy orders draconian new rules for New Yorkers to stay home, except for essential tasks like walking their dogs or feeding the raccoons. These are the same rules he ridiculed when Mayor Bill proposed them.
Bill is now trying to suck up to Andy by blaming everything on Class President Donny. He throws a tantrum, accusing Donny of betraying his own home town because Donny won't order the Army to hand over its medical supplies. People are gonna die! wails Bill.
Donny loves this, he thinks it's funny. In his Queens English he proclaims: "We're not a shipping clerk."
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of ...
-- Copyright 2020 by Tom Phillips
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