paradise lost

Family picnic in the park
The children ran the dog in circles
They, seated across the table, would raise their eyes
to look at each other momentarily
as if trying to search their mind for something forgotten
perhaps promises, once cherished, now faded.

They bowed their heads again
a sacred gadget glowing on their palms
thumbs resuming the devoted task
oblivious of the tide returning to the sea
a blue heron flew away whispering a ripple in the air
ants like nomads leaving in caravans.

note: On tract in finishing The Restless Flame, a novel about St. Augustine, and The Confessions of St. Augustine in 30 days since the start on March 16.

Waiting on the bookshelf: Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson (about time I open the pages) and True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey, one assigned reading in my study of Australian Literature.

I did my work-out in the gym yesterday.

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