Thanks, Steven, for your kind words. Here's another, just writ, though drawing on some of the ideas in my previous Union Station poems.
Starlings on Apollo's Head (Sixtieth Birthday Poem)
Let all the ends thou aimst at be thy Country's,
thy God's, and Truth's. Be noble, and the nobleness
that lies in other men--sleeping but never dead--
will rise in majesty to meet thine own.
--Inscription, Union Station
I see the three giant Xmas wreaths lying prone, beached
before Union Station; three weeks ago, wind manhandled
one of those fake evergreen wreaths studded with fairy
lights and stiff red ribbon: it trembled on
stretched guy ropes as travelers sweated for cabs;
the forecourt stars and stripes streamed eastward,
and beyond flapping state and territorial flags,
the U.S. Capitol dome ghosted in the distance;
Columbus's marble colossus of Columbus braved
the sleet, come to claim the New Land.
* * * *
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Pigeons soar in tight formation round the explorer.
I refuse a bum as I savor my cigar but am ashamed
to see as he approaches others that he only
wanted a light. Today, over seventy years after
the Depression and "Buddy, can you spare a dime."
Pigeons cluster on the pole of Columbus's globe
and starlings perch on the facade's statue of Apollo
and other allegorical figures like raisins. Having
seen the plywood hoardings, I now realise gray steel
girders prop up the tableau. Preserve this grandeur,
div>
full speed into your coming years! In a future spring,
as the state flags snap out their stars, bison, eagles,
stripes, flowing in the breeze, a red open-topped double-
deck bus will sweep by with wind-battered tourists,
hop-on,
hop-off on the Columbus's globe, the male pigeon will still
strut for the female, white tail dragging,
hop-on, hop-off.
Christopher T. George
"Railroading, Progress of statues at Union Station in Washington, D.C., by Louis Saint-Gaudens"
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