I’m reminded often, how lucky I am to live so close to Central Park. Even though I run through it most days, I tend to forget to visit more casually.
The benches were all wet, so I couldn’t sit, but then a lady came by with paper towels she had smartly brought, and cleaned a place for me. How nice was that, and she didn’t even linger, leaving my solitude serenely in place.
The trees were wet, shedding rain drops like tears, perched between two mighty elms encasing me like bookends.
A few damp runners ran by, a tourist or two undeterred, determined to take in all the Park has to offer as it drip-dries…
and of course its four-legged tenants all playing hosts.
Remembering nuts this time, I had a baby squirrel seated next to me. Only the very young would be that trusting as I fed him sliced pecans from Whole Foods.
He’d take it, scamper off I’m assuming to put in his fridge, then come back for another. Now I’m also assuming it was him each time, but who knows, maybe he had a band of brothers he shared his wealth with.
I was glad to see dogs without silly raincoats since you can almost hear them apologize for looking so ridiculous.
“Hey, would somebody please tell her, I’m a fucking Poodle, not a Rockette?”
I watched an old man make his way towards the Met, shuffling a bit, but with dignity and resolve.
But my favorite sight were the smoochers…those young’uns in love glued together like a Rodin sculpture, ignorant of me watching.
I sigh, remembering lusty love you thought would live forever, a longing of long ago paying homage to one’s youth.
“Enjoy yourself while you can,”I told my furry gray friend after handing over my last nut.
I then bid the trees good bye, snuggled in my hoodie when once again, the skies opened as I peacefully headed home.