Take a walk in your local park and you’ll often notice nothing beyond the odd jogger
Someone struggling with a buggy
A dog or three, concentrating on its business.
And showing that there’s a canine response to some of the notices
But it’s easy to miss the specifics.
The bench memorial, to an unknown, much loved local
The tennis courts, and bowling green empty yet expectant
The community garden, poised for another smattering of volunteers
The clock, a gift from a self aggrandising Victorian
And more notices
And sandpits, with the odd little brick turrets
Sport for all: A lido
An out door gym
Swing beams and cyclocross
And a lonely waterfowl
And a memorial to a brave young man, dead in 1915, winner of the Victoria Cross
Who, like our little park
Give the parks their due
They’re a diary
Births and deaths inter-twinned
With all the life in between
London is a lucky place to be, methinks
With a park on every corner.
I hope all of you, my readers, are going to find your own little microcosm today, a package of life’s richness: not all good, not all bad, but together a worthy enterprise, this living thing. Make the most of the Living Years, no regrets please.