Monday evening at the Guggenheim, NY
Blustery wind from the North, cloudless
Sky hours before the lunar eclipse,
Trees in Central park prostrate themselves,
Yellow cabs line Fifth Avenue.
Gathering in the rotunda
And continuing up and through the
Spiral walkway four floors, people
Two and three deep hush as the
First trumpet emerges from the bass section.
Frank Sinatra stands beside
And allows the solo tenor to
Croon “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”
And the six floors leading to the dome
Are awash with a spirit regardless
Of belief and roots and for a few precious
Seconds I am empty.
