The Winter Of '83

Imagine a morning in February Walking out of the subway Onto an urban landscape Of new-fallen snow Almost two feet deep No traffic No people No sound This couldn't be New York City Near Times Square? Was I dead and gone to heaven? Or was this some Twilight Zone Serling forgot to mention? The bright morning sun Lighting up the wide white way Of what I knew to be a street in More troublesome times Skyscrapers on either side Traffic lights blinking aimlessly The beauty of that surreal Pristine moment Lingers reassuringly Absolute peace in a place That had probably never seen it Before A real place, now If only in a dream A place I can return to When all this confusion Piles up in drifts of abstract Human consciousness Without making a shovelful of sense. ~ Laurence Overmire