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The Park Bench (excerpt)
by Jeffrey Snell
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Dawn peeked over a rolling horizon, tinting amber the mild air and awakening the small
city park.  Curves lay everywhere�clean concrete sidewalks, recently-mowed grassy
hills, bright berms filled with young petunias, alyssum and primroses surrounded by
mulched bark.  All blended to create an exhilerating fragrance, like earthy joy.  Finches
fluttered and cheeped between cherry trees at both ends of the walk.  The center of the
park was an oval mound of grass surrounded by four ornate wooden benches with a
towering bronze statue of Lewis & Clark in the center next to a tall and sinewy plum tree.

In one berm, in the midst of brilliant splashes of pink and white, a solitary yellow daffodil
bloomed.  Its height was not impressive.  Probably from a discarded bulb fragment, it
nonetheless shone brightly.  A squirrel hopped past it, searching for seeds.

Animal stirrings were joined by stepping shoes as early joggers and pet-walkers entered. 
A man in his mid-thirties, wearing a grey jumpsuit, ran along the berms, talking.  He had
his cell phone earpiece in one ear and that of a compact disc player on his hip in the
other.  His gaze remained focused straight ahead.  He soon ran onto a side trail and into
the woods, already immersed in the day�s business. 

Arguing a bit loudly, a couple entered while walking a yellow lab puppy who tugged on
her leash.  She quickly noticed the yellow flower.  Pulling harder she veered right for a
healthy sniff.  Her nose just brushed it when her owners yanked her back on the path,
yelling her name.

The birds had reached their crescendo.  Dozens of people now milled about the park,
some alone, some together, all planning the day ahead or working to repair the days past.

A young family walked hand-in-hand through the middle of the park.  The four-year-old
daughter�s laugh drifted faintly as they continued down to the sidewalk and strolled
along, parents allowing her freedom to move a few paces ahead of them.  She scampered
about in denim overalls and ribbons, weaving from side to side on the walk.  Then, with a
tiny cry and gasp, she stopped.... 


Copyright � 2005  Jeffrey R. Snell
All Rights Reserved


This work can be viewed in its entirety at
www.faithwriters.com.

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