The Breath Of The Park Poem by fraidoon warasta

mist has lifted, dew is awake
to embrace the sunrays in the park

there are some birds, people walking
and more that i don't know

sun winks shyly on this early
sunday morning, then glides precociously
like a bengal tiger through the tall trees

lawn and its flowers prepare
to welcome the sun, but have
something else on their mind right now

the cold homeless night is over
empty bottles everywhere
witness to their drinking-spree

a homeless man in his joyous hangover
tries to make a fire, to warm
the flaming autumn chill; but
the police officer deepens his wound

i wonder: did the homeless man
and the police officer choose to be so?
or did life circumstances make them
follow two different paths?

as i look further i also see some
pizza boxes roaming around on the grass
i greet a pigeon and keep on walking,
passing a few trees, i catch sight

of a hungry heron standing on a leaning old tree
i drown in her eyes for a moment then walk away
for an instant i pause, observing the whirling leaves,
completely at peace in the velvet breeze

for now i don't want to curse
those who cycle and play football
in the park, disturbing thirsty bees,
napping ducks and resting geese

how inspiring! to see
insects, birds and trees coexist harmoniously
and never bump into each other

soon the park will stripped of its garment
its breath will turn smoky
ah, autumn is certainly a wondrous sorcerer!

a mix of euphoria and sadness hits me
when i see this dramatic metamorphosis
taking place in the park, changing its face

it seems that it is still a long long way to rain
even after the trees, grass, flowers and bees have been
knocking at the gates of clouds for weeks
i look at those indifferent clouds in despair

asking them to come back,
bring reinforcements
and rejuvenate the spirit of the park

because we all are so thirsty
but for now
let's have a cup of tea!


fraidoon warasta
january 2019
amsterdam