"Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edge'd waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the generations after me!" – Whitman, from "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"









Tenney Park, Spring


A day along the Yahara, a day along the bridges trail
where the locks under spring construction still flow
and the men in hard hats steady crane hooks
that carry new pipes over the ragged railing floor.
Wild the pier that juts out into Mendota waves!
Wild the wind-gliders as they board in thick suits
over the broken glass waves of a cool wind day!
How many generations have walked Tenney shores?
The same cast of mind in spring did they leave
their homes to follow the river oaks to lakes?
To leave behind the hours of grit and office?