It was clear and early
Sun big
in the otherwise sky --
and Saturday came on
like
the greatest day in the morning;

everything quietly fine --
a few friendly philosophers
in old greasy clothes.
sniffing
the coffee-sharp air

one dog-faced mutt
quizzically reading
canine-prohibitive signs
on the corners of
Washington Square

two nuns
taking the sun
on Grant Avenue (one
sourfaced at something
her holy husband
had left undone;

one younger one
slyly anticipating
an evening visit from
the man with all
the mystical goodies)

one dough-nosed,
bone shouldered wanderer
with pointed beard
and dark glasses

a carload of cops
with long sad faces
because there was
no one to arrest

and the statue of St. Francis
ready to take off
like
a great big bird!

--Richard McBride