Oak Park in the Afternoon

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Abstract

p id="6125">I walk barefoot on the green grass, watch celebrations, mariachi bands playing shiny brass instruments, grandmothers doting over their young grandchildren, and pinatas smashed into a million pieces.</p><p id="65e3">The sun's warmth heals my old wounds; good friends slip into slow Tai Chi moves, and a teenager balancing on a tightrope inspires me to try new things. The landscape that surrounds the park, reaches the orange groves and the top of the California mountain peaks.</p><p id="2e70">It is a park where families grow, romances are born, secrets shared, and an ocean so close I can hear the waves break. And when a cool breeze touches my face, I feel a moment of gratitude, knowing —

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nature has taken care of me.</p><p id="41fc">© 2022 <a href="undefined">Mark Tulin</a></p><p id="48be">Here’s a story from Mark Tulin:</p><div id="32b4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/glorious-blossoms-from-japan-bf2e1087148b"> <div> <div> <h2>Glorious Blossoms From Japan</h2> <div><h3>Flash fiction</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*[email protected])"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A poem for The Lark Poetry competition — runner-up poem

Old trees have wisdom, bent over like aging prophets preaching. The crows say I have arrived for a new beginning and point me in the right direction. The fragrance of lavender wafts through the air, reviving my waning spirit.

I go to Oak Park each afternoon to transform my rigid soul into softness, rediscovering parts of myself I have forgotten.

I walk barefoot on the green grass, watch celebrations, mariachi bands playing shiny brass instruments, grandmothers doting over their young grandchildren, and pinatas smashed into a million pieces.

The sun's warmth heals my old wounds; good friends slip into slow Tai Chi moves, and a teenager balancing on a tightrope inspires me to try new things. The landscape that surrounds the park, reaches the orange groves and the top of the California mountain peaks.

It is a park where families grow, romances are born, secrets shared, and an ocean so close I can hear the waves break. And when a cool breeze touches my face, I feel a moment of gratitude, knowing — nature has taken care of me.

Here’s a story from Mark Tulin: