by Tom Pennacchini
Plainsong Wintry dusk astride the park bench (Precipitation looms) Stare-up at skeletal tree Acorn loosens and comes down I swerve and duck Acknowledging natures teach Considering myself on point For now
Winged Ones Bustling old fella dashing biddly bop by dressed to the nines with briefcase stuffed under his arm equipped with fixed maniacal grin jabbering to himself while confirming his expressions to an equally jazzed and jaunty westie he calls Ralph trailing exuberantly behind let's me know that there are actually still some living beings out there to learn from
Tom Pennacchini is a flaneur living in NYC.
