Archive
06/25/11
North, to Westchester County
The 9:48 from Grand Central gets us in an hour early (Judy is expecting us on the 10:48). Dragging our bags across the rails, We beeline it for breakfast at a restaurant facing the station. The day is a golden-blue shimmering. Eating berries, egg whites, toast, sipping juice and coffee, We reprise the litany of signs we stopped at or flashed by, As the clickety-clacketing tracks transported us northerly: Harlem — 125 St., Scarsdale, White Plains, Chappaqua, Mount Kisco, Bedford Hills, Katonah, where we disembarked. Since meeting you, Linda, nearly two years from here, I've heard so much, regarding Judy's towering intellect, That I'm excitedly nervous about meeting her in person. She pulls up, in her well-worn car, "right on time." We drop by Scaglio's Marketplace, for provisions. The whole short, winding drive to Goldens Bridge, A hamlet of 1600 villagers, embraced by a textured topography Rich with lakes, forests, marsh lands, swamps, rocky hills, I gasp at the majesty of such vast rurality Within the grasp of imaginations that can see past Manhattan.
06/25/11
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