My footsteps echo on wintered steps,
Cold, crinkled leaves crunch underfoot;
The crisp night air chills my face
And the circling wind pierces my ears.
Roadside lamps glimmer down upon
Central Park’s enraptured angel
Towering in eight foot height,
Astride, in action,
Positioned for progress
Against passing clouds,
Ready to fight the good fight
Against all odds.
Yet with one stroke of those wings
Love, beauty, gentleness, purpose
And destiny come to light.
Sirius could not shine more brightly
From the star-spackled sky
Than this fine spirit
Guarding Bethesda Fountain
In the heart of New York City.