Poetry Month - Day 7

My daughter saw this poem in a subway station in Washington DC.

Journeys I

We travel the murmuring city

far into a stoic grid of energies

too swift and deep for us to see

what passes by,  in hope, impatiently.

Here is the lingering language of our

distant dreams that follow us around

like changing children clinging lost and found

within the city's gates, an alphabet of sound.

Here, too, through quickened footsteps deliver now

ourselves from place to blooming place of sound and steel

and glass to that which cannot climb and keep, but last

between our tenured future and our past.

Dolores Kendrick