Perfection?
A few passengers boarded at Rhinebeck.
The sun dropped low.
Even for this last day in the solstice cycle.
The river was calm enough to please the early explorers Jean Cabot and Henry Hudson.
It is called a drowned river and the dead always speak with quiet in their hearts.
I looked out the window.
The river bore only birds.
None of them were quacking.
Another bridge.
Poughkepsie.
A train bridge converted to a pedestrian tourist attraction.
145 feet over the river.
I nodded off to nowhere and woke under the works of the new Tappan Zee Bridge.
The replacement bridge will cost $4 billion dollars.
Or two billions beers at the 169.
There are no more ferries.
Now there are bridges and the mightiest span of all is the GW Bridge.
A monster.
The train tucked into the shore and delivered us to Penn Station.
Right on time.
New York wouldn’t be New York without the Hudson.
Because all cities are defined by their surroundings and man can never defied Nature.
Never.
