Cascades of willow leaves shiver down the bank,
sweeping the green water with the wind.
To pollen-swollen leaf blossoms a yellow wasp
flies, upside-down, under a frozen, orange dragonfly.
On the surface an inverted rain of minnows
rings the water the blown trees have chummed.
Two grotesquely rouged slider turtles extrude
their heads like twin tips of a sunken branch.
A chagrined rock rat scurries up, wet,
having failed to retrieve the floating carcass
of a dead carp—so the small fish
and turtles go back to mincing it.
Overhead, the toupeed sparrows swoop and twitter,
noting the flat, gray backdrop of buildings.
I never brought you here.
In the midst of this great city,
just a short walk beyond the iron-work gate,
our love crumbled and we parted ways.
The people here enjoy their little lake park
as they walk the circumferential paths.
Kevin Cornwall © All rights reserved.