City Spring

City spring is an evergreen
bench, and circular sand pit stench.
What delish dish will my son invent-
amidst shifting ground, global-warming skies,
gritty gelato scoops, tram whistle sighs,
and freeway lanes with all the plastic cars loose?
The grains he gains liberated later from his shoes.

I climb onto my evergreen bench
and filter music over highway hum,
the birds sound glum, there is no pier here,
no berm, no dunes, no salty stench.
But still, springโ€™s fist has incredible clench,
blooming dandelions sprout early grays
fluffy in the sun’s rays, my daughter sprays
the seeds, little dots of graffiti,
amidst a processional of daisies,
the wind splashing us randomly.

And we three pretend our city park date
is an afternoon by the sea.

Happy NaPoWriMo Day 28. This poem is inspired by my recent outings with my two littles as we embrace all the sights and sounds of the city.


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