Edgewood Park is just a regular urban park in the city of New Haven in Connecticut. There’s nothing very special about it. There’s a small river that runs underneath the bridge, where a busy street stretches above it. The place is always quite. Once in a while some people jogged or walked about there. There’s a football field nearby that’s shrouded with trees. When a game or practice was happening, you could hear the cheer and the scuffles of people running around the field. If you came to the park in the morning or in the afternoon when busy hours were subsided, you could hear nothing but the birds singing and the wind. I love Edgewood Park the most when it’s Fall. When the leaves change into sea of yellow, and the sunlight makes them so radiant and breathtaking. Now, that Fall is here again, I can’t wait to visit the park and mesmerize by its spectacular scenery.
(Photos from last Fall)
I must get out to the woods again, to the whispering tree and the birds awing,
Away from the haunts of pale-faced men, to the spaces wide where strength is king;
I must get out where the skies are blue and the air is clean and the rest is sweet,
Out where there’s never a task to do or a goal to reach or a foe to meet.
I must get out on the trails once more that wind through shadowy haunts and cool,
Away from the presence of wall and door, and see myself in a crystal pool;
I must get out with the silent things, where neither laughter nor hate is heard,
Where malice never the humblest stings and no one is hurt by a spoken word.
Oh, I’ve heard the call of the tall white pine, and heard the call of the running brook,
I’m tired of the tasks which each day are mine, I’m weary of reading a printed book,
I want to get out of the din and strife, the clank and clamor of turning wheel,
And walk for a day where life is life, and the joys are true and the pictures real.
–EDGAR A. GUEST–