The Dogs of Central Park

Watching dogs play in the snow today reminded me of this poem I wrote about all of the dogs of central park, which was inspired by my friend, Fran Reisner’s book, “The Dogs of Central Park.”

You can listen to it here as well.



The Dogs of Central Park

We come in at all angles from brownstones and high-rises, running, sniffing,

bounding across The Great Lawn in every season, once through saffron gates,

dragging our humans to meet ancestors, generations of buried bones, chased balls,

nipping silk petticoats waiting for attention, the play to begin, discovery.

Down along the paths to The Boathouse where we bathed, and rode

the great ships from shore to shore, in this park, this banquet of smells,

in skyscraper shadows, we strolled under shielding trees protected by angels

wings. Leashed, we crossed Balcony Bridge, lunched at the Ladies’ Pavilion

breaking away to hear Shakespeare’s sonnets sung as we raced up granite

mountains to see our ghosts digging, their paws scratching the history of

New York, the immigrants who tamed and lived with us, building the horizon

up, up, but leaving this beauty here for us, where all streets converge,

mapped by our noses so that we may find each other and urge our offspring

into the great maw of hope, driving our humans, our park, our city, forward.


One thought on “The Dogs of Central Park

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