The Park

When it's windy, you may not end up where you had intended

THE PARK
June 3, 2006


Early when the sun arose
I visited the park
when leaves were dipped in sunlight
but underneath was dark.

An animal with two heads,
roadside, assumed a crouch.
The larger one was staring,
the smaller from a pouch.

But only in the moment
when winds swept past my cheek
and brushed my hair, my collar,
and up both arms to peek,

and made as though to push me
like leaves on autumn ground
tumbling beneath a slate sky
onto a brittle mound,

and then coming from behind
it made my legs go limp
and pushed to knock me over
and made my clothing gimp

til I reached the gazebo
with sunlight on its eaves
and shadows in its basement
could I relax at ease.