You can listen to it here as well. http://tinyurl.com/72oapo8
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.