At The Park
tree leaves fly stylishly,
another successful shedding of maples.
two men keep time with paddles—
ping-pong metronomic.
today is a widely fine spin.
the fast food squirrels are high
& I hear the pines breathing.
adults on the move steer metal with speed,
the smart ones gain from loss.
benches sit agog awaiting spines.
the sun is still a sweater.
someone has tilted the garbage bin’s lid
& something is about to happen.
trees branch into beautiful poems
& poems are paintings of sky.
Author’s Bio
Jonathan Focht is a poet and amateur musician. His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in The Maine Review, CAROUSEL, HASH Journal, Variant Literature, Lychee Rind, and The Walleye. He lives in Montreal.
