PARKING

It is the difference I always notice
between small and large cities: the parks.

When you sit deeply within
Boston Commons or Central Park
you can feel the city always
threatening to encroach and
once again make you its prisoner,
smell and hear the city, traffic
and trucks rumbling, horns
played in a cacophonous symphony.

In small cities you can sit in a park
and wonder where downtown
could be, distant, a whisper perhaps
alwlays unseen, and you can
get lost in dreams of childhood
smell newly mown grass, and
listen unimpeded to the stories
the trees are all to willing to tell.

2 thoughts on “PARKING

  1. Very poetic prose. I’m there.

  2. I wonder. You’ve caught the feeling I get in the parks of New Zealand’s small cities. Maybe our largest city is a small city to the big world, for I can get that same peace and sense of remoteness there too. But hey, it’s a (good) poem. And it does what (good) poems do.

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