In colors of glossy Easter Sunday, banners cropped up around the park, bringing us slips of poetry to the public sphere. Sea lions and visiting sparrows see these the most. Flowers are rising even more, I am certain. My first memory of Central Park was learning about the jogger and the danger. My first actual visit was lousy with sunshine, my husband, my two kids. A crow came a took a piece of chicken right from my paper plate, the very one I was touching in protection from his yellowy hungry eye. Bird by bird.
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