One hundred steps beyond the top of my book
A man, dressed adequately for all seasons
walks slowly, unsteadily yet gracefully across the grass
separating my bench from the river.
He stops, kneels, then lies down on that grass.
He sleeps.
I read.
After some time he rises
walks a bit more
stopping mostly behind a tree.
He urinates
and then moves on.
At a bench to my left
he spots a newspaper
sits down, reads.
Life provides. All is good.
I read.
The man who walked, slept, pissed and read
laughs softly, repeatedly
a high pitched ha ha ha.
He gestures enthusiastically
to those I’ll never see
converses intimately, silently with them
words I’ll never hear.
A woman, ears covered
against the noise she creates
drives a Toro mower
in no clear pattern
across the field in front of us.
The smell of fresh cut grass
envelops us both!
Welcome! 