Under the Longwood Avenue Bridge, Boston

mind ablaze, new treads made, wet-bleak with honking geese, a simpering wind

urban gardening on a skinny bed of soil

one of the many fringe benefits of my new role working at america’s test kitchen (the headquarters are squirreled away in a nondescript building, smack dab in brookline village) is the uber-serene 1.3-mile path between fenway station and my destination. (it’s so pleasant, i only foresee taking the green line in the worst of conditions.) … Continue reading

Under the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, Philadelphia

old town, furtive, miles of grey windswept looks from my lover like that, we turn one.