My Utopia

                                       MY Utopia

 I find a Utopian place for myself recently.

Every morning, when the others are still enjoying a late wake-up for the break of Coronavirus.

I am heading for my Utopia,

An isolated and disposed beach park near Throgs Neck Bridge.

There is nobody except me,

There are everybody including me,

The trees, the brushes, the climbers on the dead truck of the trees.

The larks, the seagulls, the wild ducks,

The tide, the tide flat, the green algae, the shells and the crabs under the mud.

The wind, the sunshine, the free and respirating space,

They are all there.

They remind me the vivid description of someone’s happiness in his childhood in a backyard.

I am thankful to listen to the singing of the lark, or some other birds I do not know their names,

They are singing in solo or dual or tri aria,

With the slices of sunshine from the branches of the trees, the wind is blowing my face, the leaves, the grass.

They reminiscent me the solo violin of a lark flying from a spring in “Four Seasons” of Vivaldi.

Not exaggerate,

I feel the moment of thrilling and emotion when he wrote the rhythm,

The nature is so harmony with all of them, the plants, and algae, and the land and waterfowl species.

I hear them singing,

I feel them intaking and exhausting, oxygen, nutrition, and recycling,

Nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, protein, Humus, metabolism,

And me,

The not so important step of the whole ecosystem.

This is my Utopia,

Perhaps the Utopia (Paradise) of Adam and Eva is like this.