The Park

small, triangular is bleak in winter.

The stone girl's foot

looks cold

as she dangles it

over the empty pond.

The homeless huddle

on inhospitable benches

and the ginkgo trees

raise stiff, beseeching arms

toward a gray heaven.

Only the benches

newly painted green

foretell the spring.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.