the last day at the baylands <br />and already it's rained <br />but the sky is that blue for now <br />and the geese buzz me <br />as I sit on my bench in the marsh <br />so close that I can hear them wheezing <br />as they pump their way south <br /> <br />the park is empty again <br />except for the kite-flyers <br />there's no one to watch <br />pondering the late afternoon <br />the softball fields are even silent <br />players and fans have found other games <br />or stolen home <br /> <br />so I'll walk till I'm tired <br />over the hills, past the aspens <br />along the marsh, through the soft grass <br />and stare at the green-tinged hills <br />in the dying sunlight <br />jets arc away over the water <br />and the traffic lines up on the highways <br /> <br />I've got time to think of the things I love <br />while the tension rolls away <br />the only time that seems to short <br />is the time that I get to stay<br /><br />Matt Ransom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-day-at-the-baylands/
