In The Park, January 24, 2004

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Rambunctious German Shepard chases

Red ball tossed into bare, dead rushes.

No real care that spring’s maples are bare,

Just that his game goes forever on,

That his master’s arm never tires.

There’s a damp smell, cold snow in the air.

Untended lawn again anticipates hard freeze.

Though it’s expected, it’s become less welcome.

Winters grow longer, while spring fades fast.

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Small flock of ducks slides across iced-over pond.

Strangely enough, water’s color’s the same

As iced green tea warming, forgotten, beside me.

Grayed over sun is still out, tending toward dusk,

Leaving just enough light left to enjoy

Babies peering from strollers, toddlers in full swing.

Bikers, walkers, lovers together brace the chill.

Smile from cute Meg Ryan blonde in forest-green cape,

Striding up my small hill with purposeful intent.

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It’s a good place to sit, chilled fingers aside.

Makes it hard to write, but how to stop?

A trio of blue spruce keeps silent watch:

Ancient sentinels, just above slope’s crest

This evening causes me wonder:

What thoughts pass through their branches?

As they watch steel and plastic

Rush by in such frenzied fury,

As if the world’s about to end.

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Memorial library sits to immediate left,

No noble barn with inviting border.

No Starbucks, video games, cell phones,

Brick tribute to thoughts lost at Columbine.

Mostly children, reluctant parents in tow,

They’re just books, or magazines after all.

Words, memories, imaginations run wild;

Such an eccentric bore in our high-tech world!

But, you’ll always fine something new,

                                   If, by odd chance, you decide look.