The Park

I sat on a bench in the park to read some Bukowski, which I did, but had to keep putting the book down And just sit basking in the sun Like a content canine. There's nothing much like sun, Blue Sky and rusty red autumn Leaves to bring you back to Whatever you are When you're not a part of 'the other world' There's only a few people around, mostly runners and bikers and a little kid I can hear behind me, but that's OK, we're all here for the wisdom of the park however it wishes to enlighten us. The language of the sun today is White hot, no nonsense welding torch blues Just relax and feel the photons. The most beautiful part though Is one brave red tree, by itself Facing its elders, an audience of dark green and brown serenity, Ready to sing its swan song About how it just can't let go of It's leaves.