Lunch in the Fort Park
I've come to the park to enjoy the sun,
but end up listening to the non-stop cries of a baby.
The air still holds a cooling nip as it brushes along my skin,
making occasional goosebumps stand at attention.
Wisps of hair lightly blow in a dancing sea of gold,
the rampant gray strands shine like silver.
Coffee tree pods still cling to bare branches,
shimmering in the treetops.
The grass remains brown and damp,
with a scant amount of snow still present in the dark shadows.
Long lost leaves skip across the ground with the breeze,
appearing alive, but long past prime.
A crow caws from above as a pair soar on high,
and Robins tweet and search the ground for juicy morsels of worms.
No flowers are present in this historic park -
no perennials peak their early heads.
But dogwoods appear to be budding, a promise of impending beauty.
A Sycamore tree proudly displays its beautiful white bark,
before the hand-size leaves begin to appear and hide the color from sight.
Mistletoe also clings for life, a beautiful parasite,
but up so high, only birds can see, the last pale hint of flowers.
The marriage temple stands alone, a stark contrast around the landscape,
red bricks appear fresh after a morning sprinkled by the white doors
closed in quiet relief.
The long lost sun peeks out his head to give a warming glow.
The baby has quit crying and my lunch hour is almost complete;
time to leave serenity behind for an afternoon back in the real world.
