The sycamores of South Park

I walked among the sycamores in South Park,

their limbs so smooth, outreaching.

Then like Quixote, I saw what wasn’t:

bare shouldered ladies

stately waltzing across the green.

If grass were wood,

if wood were sky,

if rainclouds came down to earth –

we would turn and turn and turn again.

And so then I joined the dance.

And together we splashed through yellow daffodils.

Fine mists settled on flushed cheeks and curled eyelashes.

Pink-tinged crab apple petals sprinkled down into our hair.

Their majesties swayed and circled with abiding grace,

their satin-bark gowns swirling,

their grass-slippered feet lightly touching the earth.

And when the music had finally ended,

I bowed down low before my ladies

and I walked once again

among the sycamores in South Park.