The Park

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Sometimes, reminding yourself of who you are is found by seeing yourself in others.

While cycling through the park one day,

my consciousness in disarray,

I ambled through a cloud of geese

who, on their way south, took their ease

and flapped down in my way.

 

I stopped to wait out the melee,

rendered dumb by such display,

when from a nearby pickup truck

two kids emerged to run amuck

with arms outstretched to play.

 

Like warplanes o'er a battle drear,

they swooped in from the side and rear.

The enemy planes too weak, too few,

against the onslaught of these two.

Their trajectory was clear.

 

They rushed among the gosling crowd

who scattered, squawking long and loud.

The boys fell laughing to the earth.

Beside myself, I grinned in mirth,

my spirit re-avowed.

 

And as I pedaled on my way

from geese and children at their play

and colored leaves dropped from the sky,

reminded of my youth, was I,

and warmer, happier days.

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