So this is kind of a poem about all the field trips we went on because this is about as much as i remember from each place.....

Where is the spirit of the village?
Where is the spirit of our city?
Is it in the scrolls of edgar allen poe?
Carefully hidden in the rolls of his scroll?
Is it in Morgan’s music room?
Carved in the mahogany?
Is it in Hopper’s studio?
Shimmering in a lightless corner?
Is it amongst the bodies that lay lifeless beneath the arch?
Is it buried underneath the many layers of Pollock’s paintings?
Lost, never to be found again
Is it laying low in the pews of Judson Memorial church?
Hiding from the homeless and they’re unanswered gazes
Is it on display on a window on fifth avenue
Perfectly polished but never used?
Is it strewn among the seeds that feed the flocking pigeons
In the dark park?
Carefully and cripplingly alone and lonely?
Will we ever find it again?
Or we forever be on the road, in search of
What once was easily sensed
Now fenced
Where is the spirit of the village?
Where is the spirit of our city?