recreational pondering

languid day, oh sunday afternoon.
i sit on a bench attempting a rustic look,
observe the meld of nature and humanity –
such lush green, invaded by joggers
and naive parents with their firstborn,
a man in a blue shirt walking
his german shepard. there's a sewer
grate in the middle of this grass, ten
feet from a five-trunked tree: unbelievable
fact, but fact nonetheless. ridiculous
retirees in captain jack hats and bikers
upon bikers, pedaling their troubles
away. what would cause these people
to say, yes. it's sunday. let's go
to the park. would it be for my reasons:
i longed to write some poetry, spend
some time with nature, watch and observe
all walks of people in some form
of natural habitat? perhaps one of those
reasons sufficed for the white-bearded man
in an orange hat out for an afternoon
stroll, but i have a feeling very few
of these folks came for the poetry.