rain comes and goes

it’s warm enough
you wouldn’t freeze to death
if you got wet.
i didn’t bring an umbrella.
they are a liability in light rain.
umbrellas in the hands of pedestrians
are as deadly as freezing weather.

birds are lively.
streets washed clean.
trees are just thinking 
about what it takes
to make a bud.

yesterday in Brooklyn
we walked past an old asylum
bordered by a park and sprawling projects.
it’s hard to tell what the complex is used for now
and easy to tell it isn’t a good place.

the trees by a shut-up building
all want to get away.
hop the fence
flee in a tangled run.

here in front of st. mark’s church
i sit on a bench
safe between trees.
pigeons dance
and flap
and peck the cobbles.

the trees stand tall
and exult
in the prospect of coming spring.