Rocky Point Park

but for 

the walk to Rocky Point Park

many days  

would, probably, roll out 

in perfunctory sameness.

inertia waits, with time,  

for when the freedom, 

of not having anything particular to do -

losses its joie to vivre.

 

and so, I find pleasant purpose  

in the mosey stroll to my favorite bench.

and once there,  

seated in pine breezes

amongst fellow ancients  

and mothers and babies

and fragrant green grass and leaves  

and book pages -

the quiet kindles  

like golden windows 

in the dark.

especially:

if the chapter  

is at a good part

or I’ve remembered to bring  

a piece of fruit

or a stranger passes by  

and nods in warm crinkles . . .

and I am carefree. 

photo:  Rocky Point Park Benches – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke