There was a memorial in the park today.
The people gathered near the pavilion,
their heads bowed, the trees above
lowered their branches, even the sun looked down
and spread its mottled light through the maples,
as the squirrels began nibbling
their acorns more quietly. The bit of heat
of early May helped calm the silence
of the mourners in their reverie.

After some moments, the younger people
were the first to raise their heads, then
the children were the first to laugh and
run on the grass.

Food was shared on paper plates,
and after a while of socializing
the young adults drifted towards their cars,
then the young couples
with their children began walking down
to the parking lot, conversing among themselves,
making plans to get together soon.

Finally, there remained
four or five of the elderly, left staring
out over the green lawns of the park on this
quiet Spring afternoon, either standing or stuck
on the picnic benches reviewing memories of
their lost friend or relative. For once, they didn’t have
to strain their eyes or hold a palm behind their ears

to understand the season’s inevitable unfolding.

 

Dan Kelty is a retired high school teacher who lives in St. Louis, MO. He has previously been published in Nimrod, Natural Bridge, Margie and other publications.