Daniela Nunnari
The park is closed today, due to flooding.
The gates are shut, but look
and you may see the swans and ducks who still
swim through their watery home.
The tops of trees reach up for air
and everywhere are glimpses of the
swings and slides, the fun that
hides, beneath the surface.
The park is closed today, due to social distancing.
But in the mist, I think I saw a flock of birds.
I guess they haven’t heard because
their wings were touching, huddled close for warmth
in rain slicked trees. And in amongst the leaves the
busy squirrels leap from dizzying heights,
almost in flight, then nestle close in cosy dreys,
away from grey clouds looming.
The park is closed today, due to ice and snow.
We cannot go. Though if we stand here quietly,
we may spy from the balcony, the sly young fox
that skates across the frozen pond, then rests
until its russet fur is powdered white.
The park is closed tonight. They lock it up at dusk.
We mustn’t pry, but if we raise our eyes we’ll see
the sky is moving. Shadows shaped like bats may
squeal and flit and dip to catch an unsuspecting moth.
And do you hear too-wit-too-woo? The owls are up there
too. They search for mice and voles who
hide in holes and undergrowth. But both
the hunter and the hunted must come out to eat,
while we all sleep.
The park is closed today, but those who know
would say, the park is always open.
