Health & Fitness
Albany Wrote A Poem!
More than two dozen Albany residents contributed lines about springtime, love, and our fair town to create—sight unseen—Albany's communal poem.
It's been almost a month since the in Albany, where many eager, nervous and brave Albanians of all ages stopped by the Albany Arts Committee booth and eyed a strangely speckled canister labled "Poetry." Most of them eventually agreed to write a line or two about what Albany meant to them, or how they felt about spring, or anything at all, really.
I was ready to do some adding, sculpting, and editing to piece all the slips of paper into a poem, but the fascinating thing was...I didn't have to. They rolled out of the canister and practically formed themselves into this four-stanza poem of praise for our town. Maybe you recognize a line you wrote?
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The Albany Mile
Get the facts straight: Albany is beautiful in the springtime
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Wonderful people, vistas, calm moments
Peaceful place where the Ohlone roamed.
Breezy, cool and wet, springtime for flowers in Albany --
When I find myself in my home town,
Hope will bloom.
Oceanview children growing as our garden grows
Very sweet, it has tasty things to eat.
My dog is fat -- everybody needs love!
Marin School is helping the world
By saving water and planting new plants
Cornell School gardens give us lunch.
Albany is the best place to raise a family and
Has the best schools ever.
City with old hippies, still living some of their dreams
One square mile, blue collar, expanding --
When I walk the Albany mile, it makes me smile
And smile. Riding a bus to the library,
Back on the path to the bay. On the train to Berkeley,
Bike back to Albany. Green leaves grow brightly in the sun
Beside a glistening small stream, passing beneath
A bart train rushing past.
Redtails' screams turn to music as they tumble
Towhee wings a-tremble, killdeer in rhythm
As they approach each other. Goin' to the Bowl,
Then the Stroll -- living in the Albany Hill
Lots of joy and lots of fill. Always hear the whistle blowing
Never know which way it's going.
Hold on, I can't hear you -- the bart is passing by...
Quiet again. A dose of oak from the Hill.
