The Park
Tall grassy mounds that appear to touch to the sky
has instead placed a gentle smile upon my face.
As I meander around the grassy humps of Earth,
busy bees buzz to their next meal.
The blue canvas overhead is calm and streaks of white
are scattered as if the brush ran out of paint with each stroke.
Humans move with haste with mechanical toys with some
on two large wheels and others on four small ones.
There is beauty in the serenity though none us know
how long any of this will ever last, but that’s just it.
There does not need to be start date or end point to one’s
sense of joy, imagination, or freedom of expression.
We live in a world in which beauty is easily covered in despair.
We live in a paradise, but it’s blanketed in grief and hate.
I take lessons from the trees and winds.
They told me to never wait for paradise to come.
For loose sand can become a shelter like
empty seashells to a hermit crab.
Home is where the mind feels at peace.
