We Blog

Perhaps my hormones are raging out of control in my old age, because I can find no other explanation for why this city brings me to tears as often as it can manage.

I got up early this morning to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV — something I’m not sure I ever did back in California. I have a vested interest this year after venturing to Central Park last night to see the parade balloons inflated and lined up, ready to process. And as the opening ceremonies kicked off this morning, I teared up. Why? It’s cheesy. It’s for kids. It’s brightly colored balloons for goodness sake, nothing to cry about.

The aerial views of the parade route, the streets of the Upper West Side lined with excited spectators, the bursts of fall colors emanating from the fringes of Central Park, the Broadway numbers — it’s not just holiday fluff anymore — it’s part of my city, my experience, my life.

But that’s not all. It’s part of that grand spirit of NYC, that energy that everyone talks about — that I share with 8 million other current New Yorkers, and countless others who have at one time or another claimed a piece of this city for themselves. And it makes me emotional.

I cried watching the New York City marathon last month too. Something about the thousands of spectators who were cheering on the participants like they were all friends and family — the shared excitement, the runners who looked so proud and determined, the high-fiving, the T-shirts supporting charitable causes, the band pumping everyone up. There’s just this communal spirit that I’ve never experienced anywhere else, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I just wish it didn’t have to bring on the waterworks every time.

I was feeling both silly and poetical tonight, so here’s my whimsical take on the arrival of fall weather. Criticism is welcome.

Fickle Rapture

The whole world is beautiful
In the moments just before
The leaf flutters to the ground.

But then it collapses to rest
On the hard gray sidewalk,
And it is just dead foliage.

* * *

Portrait of a New York Sidewalk in the Fall

Arming themselves against the cold,
They emerge puffed up
Like frightened felines.

* * *

Goodbye, Summer Nast

The wind whips away
The heavy humid sludge,
And a clear blue sky
Rises from the rooftops.

* * *

Waiting for Myself

A fresh season, a fresh start —
It’s time to start anew.
But just as quickly as
Inspiration arrives,

The seasons change again.

* * *

On “Falling Back”

I capture autumn daylight
As one observes a scene
With eyelids squinting open.

The sun only makes a cameo
When it’s daylight-saving time.

* * *

Rainbow Ballet

There is color in everything
And nothing.

The warm hues
Of the leaves, the decor,
The glowing lights,
Combat the muted sky
And the retreating green.

It is an adversarial dance
That twirls with wonder
In my pink-sparkled mind.