Morning in the Park
Over there on the far hill
where the trees are tall
but the slope beneath is visible,
there's a man making a devil
of a racket, wood being
hammered. See him?
I can't at first,
but another park-walker pausing
points him out. 'Fourth day
I've seen him,' she says.
My dog is staring too,
making even less of it than me.
Now he's fallen silent,
but he's moved to the right,
I see him distinctly
kicking, kicking, kicking,
boot against big tree.
The tree can stand it.
Strange exercise, venting
I guess some pent-up anger.
We won't go that way.
Wednesday 4 April 2007
Max Richards
Doncaster, Victoria
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