The rain was very light, but the skies were darkening. After learning what the satellites warned, we broke camp— packed as quickly as possible, ran to the boardwalk and rode fast to beat the real rain at our backs. Made it to a bayside pub to wait out the rain then another quick dash to the ferry dock.
By the time everyone boarded the rain had stopped. Later, as we rounded the bend toward the Verrazano Narrows, the divide between the portside storm and clear skies ashore (starboard) was dramatic, and those of us on deck got a little of the rain. (Still, better to be on deck in rain and wind than below in the too-chilling air conditioning.)
The situation of the weather in these photos brings to mind the original meaning of the word POSH: Port Out; Starboard Home. On a larger vessel, posh seats would have been just the thing in this case.Back in Sunset Park, cycling northward on Second Ave, the post-storm light was too good, so I had to stop to take pictures a few times.
This is part one of two, as I took a slew of photos this afternoon, walking through Green-Wood Cemetery with my younger brother, in town for a few days. This cemetery is very near my apartment, yet I haven’t been since last summer. It was a trip to release one of my goldfish (grown too large for my tank) into the beautifully tended koi and comet pond there.
Here begins Elysium.
The morning, bright and grey,
has brought that soft, all-day rain
peculiar to certain regions, like here.
Neither dire nor gloomy;
gentle patterings on the sill
And out the streetside window—
Wet roads that sound like
crushed velvet or old dresses,
piled flat in a secondhand store.
No slantwise wind or biting air
Just a fine steady parade of silken threads
falling from bright skies
Sequins and bright baubles
gather on the lips of things,
then parachute one by one, to
Join up with silvered rivulets
in the mud of backyards, or
the sunken spots in the pavement.
Inspiring of bookish pursuits
or, maybe, a walk—
The streets are quiet and empty.
Only the swishing of tires as they pass,
pressing unforeseen creases
into the faded dresses—
a jazz brush accompaniment
for a quiet grey spring day,
May 22, 2017