I like to collect gems on the side of the road, and off the river's edge. Beach glass, and turtle bone... Pieces of stone, and grasses. Memories from the mountains, tree beard from a forest of pines
Here in the city, I have the sky, being six stories up, and I have the tops of trees, beyond the rooftops. The river is there, just beyond the trees; like a highway of water, the ships come from docks in Manhattan, and piers in Brooklyn. Rusty and reddish barges, and the Queens of the ocean, so tall I can see their stacks moving by, lit up like a celebration, heading towards the nearby international waters. They drift under the bridge's highest point, glittering away on the curve of the earth.