Quiet One. Park Bench.

She refuses eye contact
Much too shy and
wounded in the past.
A bench in the shade.
A magazine up and down.
Smiles so subtle
And frequent.
As two little boys
Turn a swing gym
Into noisy battlefield.
Complete with screams, falls
And rat tat tat.



Two sundress girls
Rehearse the latest
News having passed
Six year old ears.
A June Sun
Observes as well
And enlivens.
The woman’s
Countenance glows.
Mouth moving oddly.
Oh that’s it
She’s praying.
Probably for those kids.
Hands folded on her lap.
Young Widow.