Poem: East End Oasis

Golden evening...cool breeze blowing...
sitting under an old tree...with waved trunk...
twisted bare branches...buds swelling along side
clusters of last summer's fruit of the season...
light brown eggs...pendulumming on long stems...
in the light and playful wind...
Behind me...the white ferris wheel...
its red chairs empty...is April still...
as Playland sleeps a little longer...
Below me is the East Side lake...
hardly having completed its first year...at the PNE...
but settling in for a long run...
likely to be much longer than its erstwhile host...
On bare patches of earth...at the water's edge and above...
newly planted tree-lets...struggle to get a grip
on the slopes of the shores...
one laden with white flowers has passed the test...
Not too long ago...there were bull dozers here...
and the wind and rain and snow...has not yet turned
this sudden lake into an easy partnership
with the newly planted bushes...and harshly ravaged soil...
but in my mind's eye...I see a time...
when the resilient earth will be healed...
and birds and other little survivors of the city scape...
will turn this aching place...into the Oasis...
of the Northern East End........
........................Quester.