Fires Of Green

I originally wrote this back before the pandemic hit, way before we all saw the benefit of our local parks, especially those of us stuck inside the city.

I can't precisely recall my initial muse for this piece, but I do remember realising the contentedness and appreciation I had for these little oases that give us all that much needed escape from the concrete cities that entrap us with their busy yet, sometimes tiring, culture.

I hope it takes you back to a moment of serenity, as it does when I read it back.

Amidst barren plains of crowds

Do fires of green glow like beacons.

Their bonfires roar with a quiet beauty,

Warming hands cold from pockets and phones.

Here rain dances along sculpted paths,

Fuelling fires that burn only sour thoughts.

Minds wander the paths with fellow feet;

In harmony they concoct dreams together.

Lungs made from earth and bark breathe,

Every breath blows creases from frowns

And clears paths of sodden leaves

Soaked, from less fortunate lands

Where trees don’t get to bask in such rays of joy.

Here is where contentment is constructed

In square patches proffered by nature.