It was just a late July afternoon but it had everything:
the smell of fresh cut grass just beyond the parking lot, the 
salty tang of sea air, a sand bar that stretched on and on,
cool water, a blue frisbee skittering over the sand and 
the sweet song of the ice cream truck. 

Five thirty five a.m. Staten Island Ferry:

The sun was just rising, draping a soft pink over the Statue of Liberty.

The ferry was full of all night revelers, tired or sound asleep or

smiling out into the new day's sky and 

nurses, security guards, the overnight shift heading home to sleep.

  

   

Sky

In a half hour this morning, 

the sky changed moods and colors again and again. 

And I got to see it.