Bridge

Some summer moons ago
I lingered away holidays

Walking
Walking familiar drives
Walking to seek a new look at the small things
Missed in the daily haste of highways
Imprisoned lanes
And traffic lights

And there, tucked between gaudy facades
Of gummy colours and red hot sales
Was a park
A tall tall elm
And a bench and table
Tender coated shapes
Hunched over the table
Poetically tapered fingers
Lightly held
A bunch of cards

2 shadows playing bridge

I began to walk daily
To the park
Round the park's elliptic secrets
Through the park's dappling lights
And any time
The dews of morning
The glare of midday
The hush of late afternoon

Always
2 shadows playing bridge

But that was many summer moons ago

And today, a friend told me I should read a book called
"Geophysics for the Wandering Spirit"
A book lost in the dust left by
Gummy colours and red hot sales
But still there
A tiny crystal trapped in the web of progress
Waiting to be discovered

The book was written by some guy with a PhD in Geophysics

Who loved to play bridge