With a short, harrying wind.
The chop breaks in quick slaps
Against the stern stones of the Battery wall.
The last curled, brown leaves
Skitter across the cobbles,
Chased by the winter wind
Like butterflies before puppies.
The air bites at
The edgy air has chased away the summer crowds
With the leaves.
The people left are solitary,
Isolated each from each.
Winter out-of-doors is a solitary time.
Community happens within walls in the cold months.
The solitary winter wanderer,
Each an island wrapped against the edgy air,
Seeks the solitude.
Face the slate water.
Beyond the harbor mouth the iron tinted tide reaches on and on
Until it meets the lowering and cloudy grey sky.
Take a worry from your head,
Tie on a sail
And set it on the steely water.
Let it go
Onto the winter harbor.