We Sat There
***
Two vacant park benches
under an old gray pine
are slate and damp
with dingy mold,
moss & pine needles
coat cracked seats
& tables crisscrossed
by mucus slug-trails–
A gray squirrel grips a stray
acorn between razor teeth
to sit and nibble under chilly
ashen bowers; this somber
winter day of the newborn
year. We sat there.
keith jeffries
Tue 9th Feb 2021 20:56
This is one of those poems where the poet has the ability to take the reader to the scene described with so little effort. Before I finished reading this poem I was already there.
Thank you
Keith