<- Back to main page


by June Blumenson


At first glance he appears to be praying,

a kind faced man sitting on a park bench,

head bowed, downcast eyes, hands cupped

in silent meditation. Then his thumbs


twitter. Oh, he's holding his phone.

Is he shopping for a right-now bargain,

addicted to instant news, reading mail,

checking weather? Does he even notice

the jogger loping to keep up along side


his greyhound? Does he inhale the scent

of magnolias, hear lake waves tease

the shore? But who am I to say, lost

in my own thoughts, making judgements.

Ruining my day. Maybe he's texting a friend

a view he seized of a boat sailing by.