I thought my new year's resolution was very manageable. Each month I would go to a place in New York City that I had never been. (I can't believe I almost broke my vow--it was already the last day of January!)
After a week of polishing a manuscript, I was ready to get outside of my head and my apartment.
The weather was crisp and cold. The wind was so fierce, I almost changed my mind about going to Owl's Head park on the eastern edge of Brooklyn. But I'm glad I didn't.
At the top of the hill, I could see white caps
on the water of New York harbor.
Without their leaves, the trees are so exposed.
As if they aren't trees at all, but some other kind of life form.
How long has this fellow being been standing on this spot?
And how did he get to be so twisted?
Of course whenever I go anywhere,
I'm always looking for a way into a new world.
Or into a new story.
I think I might have found one.