Painter's Palette in the Park

Painter’s Palette in the Park

The noon bell frees me for one hour
to flush the dull from a routine day,
with characters and sights of the city
I’m off to Grace Park for an energy charge.

Antebellum design from a world gone by
magnolias shroud the city hall lawn…
Sweet fragrance on a cool southern breeze
where the greener grass grows in the shade.

Dry white marks are left by the pigeons
to spatter the Confederate statue,
lone soldier ironically on guard
by Martin Luther King Boulevard.

The church sign advised us to “Fear God,”
as though we needed the reminder.
Jagged steeple holds cross to the sky
windy whispers of “Crucify, crucify.”

We gladly pay taxes to wise men,
just gardeners in black suit and tie
who plant beds of taxpayer tulips
that speckle our park in stemmed crimson cups.

In faded blues, red sneaks, and black tails
the wild haired maestro with bow ablaze
reels the Hungarian Rhapsody
for coins carelessly tossed in his case.

Tattered tramp in a Hilfiger T
free of posturing and pretension
joyfully jukes and jigs the green way
and grins a grin through eyes that twinkle.

Bike policeman bemused behind shades
is expecting no trouble today…
Dizzied by drifts past skyscraper peaks
is it clouds or buildings in motion?

Beneath shade from a rainbow umbrella
the street vendor in Deerstalker hat
dresses a steaming red-hot with dill relish
for the jeweler who puffs a White Owl Cigar.

A tube steak with onions and chili
for the chef from the Lotus Café,
a magician with hammered wok and flame
unaware of the dribble down his shirt.

While the book reader dabbles her feet;
Neptune’s fountain carved of porous stone
hisses and spits liquid shafts skyward
where they dance in light, scatter, and fall.

Bank clerks out for a soul food box lunch
fried chicken with hot sauce, sweet tea, and greens
appreciative from a park bench
their lunch hour in vivid technicolor.

Pigeons rise from their billboard roost
by the interstate trail toward Tennessee,
wet their wings beneath Neptune’s trident
then scavenge for scraps from the bank clerks.

Medium for a celestial artist,
these disparate colors held and blended
displayed by rays from a doting sun
a scene to be cherished, not merely seen.

And, this pleasant moment lives forever
beside all moments future and past.
It is so now, and for now only
but please remember, now is always.