Mass Ave Bridge

A Panorama View photo could never capture

Not just one hundred and eighty degrees, but every dimension around me,

Every strip of shade from a tree or a sign pole

Every glint of light on the water

That tosses playfully, sparkling and refracting between the sailboats

.

No description can detail the feeling of the cool wind on my pale, prickly skin

The smell of water on the air

The background swishing of cars and the clanks of the T

.

No quick meter, short stanza, short poem

Can ever capture the infinite lightness, boundless freedom

Of the first “real run” of the spring

When your feet don’t hold your weight like a burden but bounce it back up,

And when even bare, gothically curling tree branches look fresh and new

And how wide swaths of mud are instantly forgotten at the sight of

That Single First Patch of New Green Grass

That first glimpse of New Life

That first New Breath

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