Home Town Park.

[piedmont park, georgia]

In honor of Thanksgiving, home, and familiarity...

[Home Town Park]

Samuel Green

That crow, if there were wind,

might be a kite. Daisies are only white

until the mower comes again.

That child whining for a turn

on the slide could be yours,

or could be you, enough years gone.

That old woman who slid a stone

into her pocket will take it out

and rub it when she's alone.

That dry complaint is creaking swings.

A mother laughs and pushes.

Her daughter shouts & sings.

There some boy counted the loose

change of love into a girl's hand, a ring

gathered & bent the light of stars onto grass.

There a son collapsed on the damp seat

of a bench having said good-bye

at the funeral home across the street.

Here is where a gray dog decided not to bark.

He lies beside his gray master and listens

to the town grow quiet in the coming dark.

There's always more than one way in. Come. Stay

long enough to know what brought you here,

what you leave behind, and what you take away.