Sundays Walking Through McCarren Park

A warm and windy day for late February in the city
All these free and happy people,
Unprovoked
And soaking in the day’s remains like children at a playground,
Milling about and around unaware of their parent’s pressing schedule.
Somehow, five folks manage to play a friendly game of touch football.
Further on, a whole field of soccer fiends slake their thirst,
Slamming about from line to line, and goal to goal
Feeling alright and warmed by the gentle sun, which penumbras the park,
The sun which now imperceptibly lowers, ever slowly,
Becoming hidden, tuckered out and dusky.
A scent of wood fire floats down the park path,
Unprovoked
Probably from some hip bar making craft cocktails,
Perhaps an old fashioned, smoked with oak plank,
The scent lingers, unnatural in a city scape, but right and welcome nonetheless
And the people are freer and happier now because of it.
The dogs too, free and happy, run circles, loping around the softball field
Unprovoked
The dogs are smiling wide toothy grins at each ball thrown.
The people are laughing and the children are laughing,
Unprovoked
The children are laughing at the bubbles refracting
As their parents cancel plans
And decide to pour forth more and more from soapy wands under the drowsy sun,
Which continues its bedtime course over a city that chooses not to sleep,
And the free and happy people
Continue to laugh
And to be free and happy.