Winter's Bench Mark

A park bench sits empty Dawn dew dappled An unseen shiver Envious of the shaking dog Senses a loneliness Hinted at by Winter’s chill Passersby now scurry Heads down, breath steaming The squirrels will no longer come Nor the pigeons Cold winds will scourge the trees Denude them of leaf and bird. The bench imagines the dew drops To be its farewell tears.