The sounds of the playground
are comfort in winter
no children, no laughter, no shouts
in the cold
just the iron ring cry
of a swing on a eye hook
the wind in the monkey bars
sleet on a slide
Grey snow all but vanishes
yellow paint hopscotch
and ice jams the joints
of the merry-go-round.
Nobody lingers here
just a few blackbirds
and me and it’s noon
so my shadow is gone
All alone with the crows
and the sounds of the playground
so useless
so empty
so peaceful
so cold