the great city of New York

the great city of New York

a country mouse(mous) in the city

By Henry H. Walker

I am excited to be in New York,
me, a child of nature,
who most feels at home
where the buffalo(ˈbəfəˌlō) roam(rōm), or did,
me, like Davy Crockett(ˈkräkit),
who found the smoke of a neighbor’s(ˈnābər) fire(fīr)
telling him to go further away
from the contagion(kənˈtājən) of people,
me, who loves to be alone(əˈlōn) on a mountain top,
alone exploring a stream, a flower,
the enigmatic(ˌenəɡˈmadik) schedules(-jəl,ˈskejo͞ol) of a bear(be(ə)r),

I love being here in New York,
where canyons(ˈkanyən) are made by human construction,
buildings which rise(rīz) straight(strāt) and presumptive(prəˈzəm(p)tiv),
where people are everywhere,
each different as a snow flake(flāk),
each also me if I let my self soar(sôr)
into imagining how very alike we are
in our dreams and in our fears,
how each difference in us is like a spice(spīs)
that helps me awaken a sense within me
that loves to savor(ˈsāvər) how incredible the world is
that we humans can envision(ənˈviZHən) and create,

New York City shouts of the hope
our species(ˈspēsēz, ˈspēSHēz) needs to endure(enˈd(y)o͝or), and prosper(ˈpräspər).

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-great-city-of-new-york.html