Party At the botanics
The park is filled. Strollers on the pathways. Children running in the fern valley, chasing pedigree dogs. Huskies panting. The evening sun sets on symphony lake. All gathered in this green oasis. The birds flit from tree to tree, chirping the end of day. Life grasping at meaning within parameters. Only in this green city park, can manicured relief make us believe there's still life in this city, some measure of liberty as children run free from tree to tree. And adults sit on clean spreads sipping tea. It's dark and we return to our cubes, and look forward to monday like lambs returning to fences. we know we're safe on this side.
2 Comments:
Nice poem :)
I think you've grown as a poet. I guess it's just life - stretching us, deepening us - we putty clay in the Potter's hands.
It didn't start out with any poetic intentions; just a crisp way of speaking how I feel about our "garden" city.
Hey! nice article on the mekong too. Always find the region charming. Did you visit personally?
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