“You and the Park”

I am looking at the bark of a pine tree,
wondering if it has always been orange and purple
and only now do I notice.

Children’s voices from two yards over giggle
across the drive.  At this distance, it sounds as if the youngest
is squealing over the inequities of freeze tag:
threatening to go tell Momma:
threatening to quit the game.

You can hear the highway
from here if you sit very still and don’t hum.  And there are birds. 
Red ones. 
Their songs aren’t as pretty as some of the more plain ones,
but you can’t have everything

And speaking of everything, I wish you were here.