I stand and wait for the light to change <br />at University and San Pablo, <br />one of those timeless corners. <br /> <br />Amid sycamores and streetlamps, <br />a hint of smoke in the darkening sky, <br />a city bus disgorges passengers, <br />momentarily obscuring my view <br />of the sari shop across the street. <br /> <br />Some of the people join me. <br />The crosswalk fills: in the crowd, <br />a <i>kente</i> pattern dress, <br />a thick, dark-blue turban, <br />workmen's flannel shirts, <br />an elderly lady on crutches: <br />the entire world seems to be here, waiting. <br /> <br />The breeze blows more hints: <br />the <i>halal</i> meat shop down the street, <br />autumn chestnuts in New York, <br />the playground at my boyhood school. <br /> <br />The light changes and we cross, <br />as the world is always crossing <br />the precarious intersections of its destiny.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/15-november-crossing-berkeley/
