Out of the subway
walking home
The night sky waves,
flames through a smoke scarred furnace door,
thick and heavy and
muffling the triple gong of a distant church bell
Pathway lamps cut the trees
and pulse the fog
that bleeds the park
Only my foot falls sound the sidewalk
Now, a cold siren in Harlem
Through the haze
a mammoth stone rises
speared with the bones of trees --
and a golden presence hovers in their midst --
A small tree,
a yellow-petaled halo,
crowns the stone
among the ruins of winter
