A meeting place for those who
Wish to avoid meetings;
A mesh of colours with the pervading sense
Of nature, order, things being
As intended.
Greedily wolfed down by small, thoughtful
Walkers. A sea of kindred spirits wash
Over each other without a word.
Perhaps ‘morning’, a smile…
Mourning a smile.
A nod signals welcome respite
From their old herd.
Their ears prick up at sounds
Of the mother,
Otherwise unheard.