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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Late March</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saturday morning in late March.<br>I was alone and took a long walk, <br>though I also carried a book<br>of the Alone, which companioned me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The day was clear, unnaturally clear,<br>like a freshly wiped pane of glass,<br>a window over the water,<br>and blue, preternaturally blue,<br>like the sky in a Magritte painting,<br>and cold, vividly cold, so that<br>you could clap your hands and remember<br>winter, which had left a few moments ago—<br>if you strained you could almost see it<br>disappearing over the hills in a black parka.<br>Spring was coming but hadn't arrived yet.<br>I walked on the edge of the park.<br>The wind whispered a secret to the trees,<br>which held their breath<br>and scarcely moved.<br>On the other side of the street,<br>the skyscrapers stood on tiptoe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walked down to the pier to watch<br>the launching of a passenger ship.<br>Ice had broken up on the river<br>and the water rippled smoothly in blue light.<br>The moon was a faint smudge <br>in the clouds, a brushstroke, an afterthought<br>in the vacant mind of the sky.<br>Seagulls materialized out of vapor<br>amidst the masts and flags.<br>Don't let our voices die on land,<br>they cawed, swooping down for fish<br>and then soaring back upwards.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The kiosks were opening<br>and couples moved slowly past them,<br>arm in arm, festive.<br>Children darted in and out of walkways,<br>which sprouted with vendors.<br>Voices greeted the air.<br>Kites and balloons. Handmade signs.<br>Voyages to unknown places.<br>The whole day had the drama of an expectation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down at the water, the queenly ship<br>started moving away from the pier.<br>Banners fluttered. <br>The passengers clustered at the rails on deck.<br>I stood with the people on shore and waved<br>goodbye to the travelers.<br>Some were jubilant;<br>others were broken-hearted.<br>I have always been both.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Suddenly, a great cry went up.<br>The ship set sail for the horizon<br>and rumbled into the future<br>but the cry persisted<br>and cut the air<br>like an iron bell ringing<br>in an empty church.<br>I looked around the pier<br>but everyone else was gone<br>and I was left alone <br>to peer into the ghostly distance. <br>I had no idea where that ship was going<br>but I felt lucky to see it off<br>and bereft when it disappeared.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+Hirsch">Edward Hirsch</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374857" data-title="Late March de Edward Hirsch" data-description="Saturday morning in late March.
I was alone and took a long walk, 
though I also carried a book
of the Alone, which companioned me.

The day was clear, unnaturally clear,
like a freshly wiped pane of glass,
a window over the water,
and blue, prete..."></div>
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