June 22, 2008 1:57 PM
Reservoir
I walk along the gravel path
as writhing joggers splash on past
the shiny green of dewy trees
and dusky rainbow waters gleam
in peachy-violet-grays.
I meet his smiling, kind blue eye
and profile rippled by the years.
He wears a little fishing hat,
and makes me think of lemonade
and front porch swings and
lively nights awash in
human silence.
He thrusts his chin and points below,
beyond the railing where we stand,
to show me where a gosling
is snuggled fast asleep, a furry-seeming ball
that I might've mistook for a squirrel.
"See there's its parents," he says,
pointing to two nervous grown ones below,
rigidly standing guard.
Collections of people pass us
by with cameras and chatter and breaths.
And we -- just a moment's pair of friends --
fish some details and throw them back
and move in and on like the rest.
© 2008 by Christina Pitrelli
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