A morning at the park

Passing the fragrant pines, they seem episodic today
I am intoning for the clouds to stick around
A flycatcher makes swooping casts from a branch like a fly fisherman’s line
A male robin is at rest on a low bough while its mate babysits the nest above
Man on camp chair w/ obedient mastiff, unleashed and lounging in the grass
Finches on trees like holiday ornaments, branches bobbing like rafts in a rapid
The smoke & scent of BBQ and the sound of the Wailers
Bob Marley chirping about his single bed
In the distance, a Harley like an aboriginal didgeridoo & chant


The ducks had trust in the two little girls who were approaching.

Actually, the ducks were Canadian geese. Elegant creatures that added class to the playground.

One girl’s name was Brooklyn, and her mother assured her the geese would not attack.

Brooklyn’s younger sister threw grass at them, offering it as food.

The other day on National Geographic’s safariLIVE!, they showed rare footage of a baby elephant charging at the nature guides’ jeep and then retreating. Charging and retreating. Never coming closer than within 2-3 feet, its ears flopping as its mother loomed in the background.

The guides and cameraman held fast, laughing at the fledgling’s repeated bluffs.


I am taking forever and ever to eat my yogurt. The creamy substance is something to stir and stir with my teaspoon until homogenized and then remove gently with my mouth, using no teeth, only tongue and lips.

The pomegranate seeds are a bitter, crunchy counterpoint. Still, we must bear the unpalatable in order to be more present during the blissful — even if it is, in this case, bacteria that somehow rivals Reddi Wip

With the yogurt, the bottom of the cup is something to scrape and scrape — the spoon something to leave in my mouth as a I carry the cup to the kitchen and drop it into the trash, comforted by the thought of another and then another waiting in the fridge to be eaten.