Monday, December 1, 2014

December Parking

Leaving behind
gray walls and conference calls
I find my way
to the park

I found this park
as I find all parks:
In the continuation
of non-coincidental encounters

My heart walks straight to them
of where I might be;
my sixth sense

So I return
almost daily
today being cold
and sunny

I stop
as is my ritual
to admire the gnarly tree
just inside the entrance

Her leaves
gone now,
her branches giving way
to blue sky

Up the path, I pause to warm my face

Here the wet tree limbs
glistening like spiders webs
in the sun

I hear the drippings
of two-day-old-snow
from the trees

saying their goodbyes
As I also must now do.


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