Peaks and Valleys

Riding a bus down Brooklyn streets
I feel just as flat
As the terrain it traverses

I glance out the window
And spy a Mourning Dove
Sitting on a telephone wire

Not the usual
Sparrow, Starling
Pigeon, Seagull fare I'm used to

I smile....

...but then remember you

The smile lingers a bit
Then disappears
And my heart falls into a crevasse

Surreptitiously wiping a tear
With fingertips
I look out again

Jolly Santa faces decorate
The window of a little house
This February 24th morning

The absurdity elicits a slight chuckle
And while not a peak experience
This hill will do