I have written, many times, in this space, about my passionate love for my home town (which happens to be Manhattan). Reading Alysa Salzberg's writing about her beloved Paris has inspired me to share a poem I wrote (back in 2008, while sitting in Straus Park on West 107th Street and Broadway) and then "open the floor." The assignment (if you choose to accept it) is to write a poem about the place that is, most deeply and truly, HOME, for you. Here's mine, called "Smiles For Pigeons."
Smiles For Pigeons
Smile at the pigeons;
they are your friends.
You'll make amends
for all the grouches who don't get it.
New York is a friendly city if you let it
give you its sweet pigeons
and its grumble-gray curmudgeons;
the joys of its voice all day and night long.
Like the night song
of the subway, saying, "Clackety-clack-I'm-on-the-track
Live here for a while and let Her love you.
Even when others shove you,
it's just their way of saying, "Here we go!"
Nothing beats these streets.
Our pigeons know it's true,
so give those urban birds their due.
Smile at a pigeon and the City smiles with you.
Blessings and well-wishes from Eva T., sighing, missing Manhattan and smiling at the pigeons who live in her heart!
ps. Yes, there are pigeons in Brooklyn, too. They're wonderful everywhere and I still feed them and love them.