Two years ago, I stopped my bike at Sailboat Lake in Central Park and watched the hawk called Pale Male search for prey. He soared over Fifth Avenue. I tired before he did, but not before I took several photos of him dancing with the moon.
Leaving the park a water fountain got all psychedelic on me. I spied 64 Crayola colors reflected in the rippling water.
I’m lucky to be in New York City, find quiet places to read and think and when the mood suits me let an impulsive sensation lift me up. New York never bores me. Here are shots from my stay with Pale Male and a public Facebook link to 70 photographs from my Central Park romp.
And for good luck, here’s Billy Stewart singing, “Sitting in the Park.”
Thomas Pryor’s blog: Yorkville Stoops to Nuts
