I’m out bird-watching in Riverside Park,
And I don’t mean the kind of birds that fly;
There’s the river and me, out on a lark,
All sorts of souls, walking, biking, bopping by.
And it’s legs left, boobs right, blonde there, brunette here,
And, oh, could the sun get any higher?
Girl glances back – oh, babe, have no fear,
It’s all good, you just sparked me small fire.
And then the question pops up: how now, and why
Am I so seeing these things, that are always here?
These woods, this water, didn’t fall from the sky,
These long loping girls, they’re always near.
And then it hits me, so hard I damn near lose it –
Being happy, maybe you can just choose it.