The Beginning of an Adventure

Late afternoon.
The tilt of the sun is precariously steep,
but sunset is still hours away.
The park is empty and quiet,
the intrusive rumble of the occasional car
and the movement of people in their houses
along the three streets surrounding the park
simultaneously jar and restore my peace.

The houses bunch and crowd the little haven.
It feels protective and cove-like,
like the hiding place of some pirate’s treasure
sitting peacefully awaiting its discovery in eternal and glittering patience.

Cicadas purr and buzz in the trees above me,
and in the trees further away,
calling to each other in groups and phrases,
remarking and replying about the weather in a lazy and leisurely swirl.
The grass is a vibrant and sunny emerald, gem-like in nearly all qualities,
including the sparkle of leftover dew
and the odd shiny blade turned in the light just right
to make this place glitter and expand with a fairy tale beauty
And private and meditative grandeur.

And I think: this would be a good beginning for an adventure.