Franklin Park
April 30, 2007 by Peter Schellhase
FRANKLIN PARK
Turning cartwheels over the hill,
my friends are like courting sparrows:
Their laughs are private. I walk on.
From this spot you can see everything:
the lake with its fountain,
the little wooden bridges,
the lacrosse fields with their crowds.
On the other side stand the mountains
in their sober afternoon purple,
And the roofs of houses in between,
dark and all the same.
The earth is ground,
the steady sunlight harmony,
the breezes melody.
(If you were here, it would be perfect.)
PCS 4/30/07
