The Children’s Playground Two Years On

let me give you feathers, anything ephemeral

let me give you feathers, anything ephemeral

Leaves, dip dyed maroon,
corked at the stem,
some fell too early.

In the park
planes groan grey,
a wedge of sound

blocks out crows
who peck and pick
hardened ground.

Too warm for a coat
I hug myself.
Warm flesh, red wool cardigan.

I push an empty swing
and sing lullabies to myself.