You broad-shouldered beauty—
You’re an avenue with a point-of-view,
And you’ve seen it all:
The movers and
the shakers,
Catholics and
Quakers,
Matchmakers and
heartbreakers,
All have lived here,
Now they’re gone with the wind;
Yet, they
always manage to reappear again.
Boulevard!
You broad-shouldered beauty—
You’re an avenue with a point-of-view,
And there’s nothing you can do
But suffer silently until winter’s foul ways
Slowly surrender to spring’s welcome breeze
As it sweeps through your tunnel of trees
Carrying the sweet aromas of honeysuckle and jasmine
Past dogwood blossoms suspended like
Swollen snowflakes patiently waiting to fall,
Past clusters of lavender wisteria
Clinging bravely to ancient garden walls.
Boulevard!
You broad-shouldered beauty—
You’re an avenue with a point-of-view,
And you’ve heard it all:
The salesmen
with all their gimmicks,
The heretics
with all their polemics,
And a host of
politicians and holy men and academics,
All have been here,
Now they’re gone with the wind;
Yet, they
always manage to reappear again.
Boulevard!
You broad-shouldered beauty—
You’re an avenue with a point-of-view,
And there’s nothing you can do
But suffer silently until the dog days of summer
Slowly surrender to autumn’s umbrageous surprise
As it paints its’ outrageous feast for the eyes
On hickory and ash and oak,
A raucous explosion of colors,
Of yellows and
golds and reds
That all too soon transform your well-worn sidewalks
Into multicolored feather beds.
Boulevard!
You broad-shouldered beauty—
You’re an avenue with a point-of-view.
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