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Stark Bare Trees on Piermont Pier
Visibility is low, wear a bright vest,
Cycle with lights on, caution is best.
Stay on the bike path across the Tappan Zee
The Hudson's below, but you can't see
You can't see the water, the fog is like a wall
It might be a blanket, it might be a pall
You peer through glasses - an ancient man smiles.
Your bike hums in tune as it laps up the miles.
Turn south to the rail trail above Grandview
When you see a face, you seek for a clue
a man emerges, with dogs on each side
He looks sarcastic, but you nod as you ride.
You reach Piermont Pier, last stop Erie train
Soldiers embarked, not all came back again
The white in the sky obscures the sun
Seagulls rest but your peace won't come
Memories like waves begin.
The air is soft, so what stings your skin?
Father couldn't speak before life disappeared.
You dream of him as you stand on the pier.
Fog as a cloak, you hide in a cloud
People are scarce, but you don't like a crowd.
Head down in the fog, try hard to shed a tear.
Stark bare trees on a foggy pier.
Last look back on Piermont Pier.
Copyright ©
Mark Springer
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