Central Park Lovers II

The forms
of the emotions are crystalline,
geometric faceted. So we recognize
only in the white heat of
understanding, when a flame
runs through the gap made
by learning, the shapes of things--
the ovoid sun, the pointed trees

lashing branches

The wind is fierce, lashing

the long-limbed trees whose
branches
wildly toss--

William Carlos Williams "April" from Della Primavera Trasportata al Morale (1930)

Central Park Lovers

A New York City thunderstorm sounds like God and his/her cohorts are whipping around huge pieces of sheet metal in the air and rubbing together live electric wires that are fifty feet in diameter. Closer to earth, the rain and wind flatten pedestrians against the buildings. An umbrella? Don't bother. Even I want to wait out the storm under the bed with the cat.

A few days ago, New York City's Central Park was hit by one such storm. Hundreds of trees, more than a century old, were knocked down. For many New Yorkers like myself, it is devastating to see these uprooted behemoths. I grew up with those trees. It is kind of like losing a bunch of old, experienced friends.