Dating : Central Park Jazz

We lie on seedling grass
for refuge in Central Park,
pressing blades down
like piano keys,
hoping to release
a harmonic sound.

Tall buildings 
lean in
straining to hear 
above the refrain
of the city’s discordant
blare.

Bright balloon notes
dot a sheet music sky
with bar lines of kite tails 
and accent marks
by swooping red-tailed hawks.

Geese honk low
like saxophones
while pigeons and warblers
sing scat
to the clop
of horses’ syncopated trot.

As rain gushes applause,
we run down paths
that curve and twist 
like G-clefs,
to see the Guggenheim,
with modernist swirls,
dancing a bebop tempest.

We join hands
and know that we have found
the power of silence within sound,
and move as one
like an intro chord
to a tune
we have just begun.