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.
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