Arlington Street

Whilst spending time in Massachusetts in the autumn of 2011 I experienced many special moments;  one in particular inspired the poem below, Arlington Street .....



Arlington Street

It’s a street, just a side-street

A neat street, not my street

Arlington Street, Somerville, Boston

My daughter’s street ….

It’s October - not a sunny day, nor a dull day

It’s not a rainy day, nor a gusty day

It’s a sort of blah day

You know, just a day ….

Looking out of the living-room window

I see and hear the clanking of the dustcart

It’s collecting the appropriate bins

Trash, recycle, garden waste, whatever

It moves on down the street

Arlington Street …..

The houses on this street

Are proud, tall 1850’s three-storey

Clapperboard of grey, faded-green and the like

Now and again there are apartments

Small front gardens, hard surface drives for the cars

You know the sort of thing  ….

I’m still standing there, still staring there

In my early-morning fug

When, opposite there is a woman

There on the drive, in Arlington Street, beside her flat …

She’s neither plain nor beautiful

She’s neither young nor old

She’s neither plump nor skinny

American I guess but the flash of dark eyes

The slant of the cheekbones

Speak of the East

I blink

I blink again

Mmm Yes, she’s still there

Wearing what I’d call a jumper, they’d say, sweater

It was neither fancy nor dull

The same could be said for her pants –

Not distinctive, just average ….

But here, before this unseen audience of one

The woman holds me captive

She’s mesmerising

She’s performing Tai Chi

With fluid gazelle-like movements

It’s entrancing …. So out of context, so perfect ….

Her face is unchanging, inscrutable

One moment she’s standing straight on one leg

Upright, like a summer’s silver birch

The next she bends the knee of the other and with

Perfect balance revolves

Like a Markova, a Nureyev even ….

She crouches, she squats, arms stretch, then bend

And all the time the torso is straight

The head erect and poised.

One minute up and  then down, so many different moves, poses and

Never a wobble, never a falter.

Just like water flowing with beauty and grace….

It must be twenty minutes  I’ve stood stock-still

Watching this  strangely moving and mystic drama unfold….

I want to applaud,

Throw flowers at her feet

Rush out and gush out my admiration …..

Of course I do none of these things.

Instead I watch awestruck as she turns on her heels

And workmanlike  walks from her drive

Leaving me to dwell on the magic and magnetism

Of ordinary people

Doing extraordinary things.

This time on Arlington Street, Somerville, Boston.