Lookout Point

by John Enright

The city stands astride the river's mouth
Where swampland for uncounted centuries
Lay flat in soggy sleep. Miles to the south
Atop a ridge, above a spread of trees,
I stand, and gaze upon the awesome towers
That seem to float like clouds, but never move.
Day after day they're there, through all the hours
And all the years, solid, as if to prove
That all is possible — that living dreams
Can be achieved — made real in stone and steel.
The birds fly overhead and, far above,
A jet roars 'cross the sky. The sunlight gleams
Upon its wings, and all that I can feel
Is happy in the power of my love.