Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Dinner Hour Empties

Clissold Park

I worry about friendly deer
and children who are not.
The way he introduces himself

to animals and rarely people.
Hello moor hens! His name Winston,
he chirps. Prefers

the playground at dusk
when shadows are long
and equipment aches

to hold children. My arms
empty for the first time
all day as he tries each slide,

swing, merry
go round
in the quiet.

Missing the different
heft and weight
of someone else’s dear

one. Graceful,
skittish boy
sitting, observing

beasts at play.

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