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After the storm has passed, the sky seems higher, bluer—washed clean by heaven’s breath.

I wandered into Allison Park, perched above the Hudson River, where cliffs cradle quiet.

From the overlook, I watched white yachts drift like paper boats—

or flocks of ducks, unhurried, playful.

They reminded me of childhood days,

when joy was simple and the river wide.

Today, the breeze carries peace.

The storm has gone, but its cleansing remains.

And in this stillness, I hear the whisper:

"Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)