A transcendent moment in an ordinary day. |
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. |