In The Pink in the Park

A walk in the park woods will always throw up something...
pine cones to take home,
kindle sticks for the fire,
a branch of spring buds,
holly berries,
a stray dog,
a chat,
an encounter,
a friend,
a story.....

Here is her story.... His story follows tomorrow

More flash fiction than poem.

IN THE PINK.

He wore a pink tie. His beige shoes didn’t match his grey flannel trousers

and he was carrying an umbrella with a pointed ferrule and a long shaft -

with twelve stretchers at least.  

He just looked like he might know -an older man with a real umbrella –

bound to have some experience of it.

It’s a pity I didn’t look at him a bit harder -

You see, I could pass him again tomorrow

and if he isn’t wearing the pink tie

and if it isn’t raining. …

And I shouldn’t have said, “We’re early on the road.”

I must have sounded like one of those carers in the wards, in the homes, even on the streets, who address everybody in the first person plural, when they really mean you.

But I didn’t mean him, I meant us, both of us. 

I’d remember his hands though -big hands - capable.

And when he raised them and said what he did I thought of a priest

calling on the congregation to stand for the gospel

What was it he said?

And as if summoned,

the injured bird took flight right out of my cupped hands -

Its beak no longer frozen in open mouthed fright

And we watched it rise, then dip, then rise again

And then he walked on

I should have told him I liked the pink tie.

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016