Riding the Gondola

New York at dusk
When shadowy sun
Rests on skyscrapers
And in the park
In the city
Dragonflies murmur
Birds hum
As the little gondola
Glides across the silver lake
That parts between my fingers
The tenor of cheerful chatter
From the restaurants
The whispered conversations
Of the couples
On their sunset rowboat trips
The swan
Splashing
Preening its feathers
One by one
As night comes to the city that never sleeps
The man on the gondola
Sings in a resounding baritone
“Venite all’agile
Barchetta mia
Santa Lucia
Santa Lucia”
“Come to my
Swift little boat
Santa Lucia
Santa Lucia.”