august, mid morning in the park by the river
by @thepenreborn
breeze sings from the east
a tickle against my skin.
the grass here hasn’t been cut for a while
cool to the touch as i braid it between my fingers.
the heat of summer hangs thick in the air but it feels a little lighter
when a stranger’s laugh pokes through.
some sit together , ripping a piece off their pizza crust to hand across the picnic blanket.
some, like me, find a tree standing tall like their own solitude
and take solace in its shade.
i wonder what they carry in their straw baskets and canvas totes.
the change leftover from a morning coffee run?
a half empty bottle of sunscreen?
old movie ticket stubs, a tattered picture of a lover?
in mine, a book with dog eared pages and a broken spine, and the sticky bittersweetness of being alone.
an eager-eyed little boy runs too fast down the hill , picks up speed -
tumbles and scrapes his knee.
his sister scoops him up, wipes salty tears and sticks her tongue out, a smile arises.
in seconds he’s running down the hill again.