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At The Park

[This started out as a letter to the editor, but after a few sentences I  noticed that it had a rhyme scheme and meter.  I left it in prose form, what do you think, is it poetry or is it memorex?]

In the Company of Solitude

     At the park the concrete benches lining pavement face within, towards fountains Phillistines have placed to entertain their TeeVee eyes.

     Behind their backs, some necks unfeathered, mottled geese and necklaced mallards bask on mossy gracious banks.  With leather paddles folded underneath their downy undersides (so many prayer rugs free-assembled), they watch as brother swan on still lagoon the silent water glides.  

     No fingers forage bags of peanuts, no lips are smacking--chocolate browned.  They leave no litter, rather glean it, leave their picnic pleasant ground.

     Life comes easy for a mallard, never lonely in a crowd.  When I go to the park I join him.  But when I want to be alone I sit among the chatty heathen, perched on benches, watching stone.
~Mark Rector