Central Park Jazz

Debra Simon
Jun 20, 2019 · 1 min read
Photo by Preston Pownell on Unsplash

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

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.


Stories that matter. Emotion first and foremost.

Thanks to Thomas Gaudex

Debra Simon

Written by

Freelance writer, teacher, exuberant knitter, lover of words and dogs



Stories that matter. Emotion first and foremost.

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