It’s passing offshore
Silhouetted against the far peaks
Everything seems to be some shade of blue or grey
Except for the lightening silver of tossing waves
It’s some kind of warship from the naval base
Keeping the peace and doing a fine job
Since it’s nothing if not peaceful here today
Freshmowed lawns roll from road to rocks
Under the snapping flag that illuminates the breeze
The park is littered with dedicated benches
Each plaque a shorthand biography in brass
Seagulls cry and play in freshening gusts
Childs play for them after yesterday’s gale
I inhale virgin air off the Pacific
Cleansed by the long journey from that further shore
Dandelions and daisies cross stitch the lawn
One lone sailboat heels into the wind, making time
A young mother with a sports stroller airs out her child
Barely noticing the view as she texts and talks
And stares at the phone clutched talisman tight
The gulls upswell into a formation of imprecision
Looking for balance points where they hover briefly
Then it’s slip, slide and goodbye
In the parking lot cars come and go
Most doors never open
As this seems to be a place to wolf down a quick meal
Or a quick smoke
The warship slows and heads for port
Belching smoke as she powers down
I sit and watch a crow waddle across a grassy corner
At first tentative and hesitant it scares up worms to deftly swallow
Stopping occasionally in a prime location to feast
Like a teenager with a side of fries
A swathe of slate grey clouds push forward
Inner city sidewalk clearing in their youthful bluster
So I leave the bench and spring behind
When I turn to look, the crow has gone
While the gulls continue their resonant entreaties to the wind
David Trudel © 2013
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