In the Park

In the park today,

All that I found had a name.

The black ball of a robin’s eye,

The dizzy dart and dawdle of the sky blue butterfly

Were almost just the same,


But I had their song

In my hands and lips,

Like the grass I picked when it had been

Rolled and rolled until the colour of its darker green

Was now my fingertips,


So I travelled farther

Into the depth of the park,

With the gumboot slickness of a slug

And the tictoc waterboatmen out wrinkling the rug

On the pond’s unblinking dark.


There were daisies’ yellow circles

Inside daisies’ yellow circles

Piled on their slim white spoons,

And I ran around and round and round and sang the tunes

That all went round in circles.


Then we climbed into the evening

Up from the sign for the bus,

And everywhere I’d been that day

Looked out through the black railings as the world of the park pulled away,

Leaving us only us.