Snapshot 13 July 02005

I wake in pain, enter this day in pain. Young
osprey circle above the swallows. A man
in the park paces under the trees, swinging
a metal detector. The tables have been moved
together into one open space; a herd of picnic
tables, green on the green grass. Heat. Bees
hum in the foxglove. This garden is tired. Rose
petals litter the ground. The lilies open,
beautifully. Why do they not move me?
Why is my heart not pierced?