Empty Park

Sitting on one of the wooden benches scattered about the park i walk through every day.
Nothing is different today.
It is 4.30 and there is yet to be a person in sight.
But this is nothing new. Often the park is quiet and empty. And dark.

Green grass stretches across hills.
Seperated into chunks by thin slivers of pathways.
Trees line the paths.
The wind whistles through the trees echoing the silence.
Grass blows softly.

It is a peaceful experience to sit.
Watching.
And listening.
In the quiet park after the school bells ring.

Then into the silence rings the sound of laughter.
A dog barks and tugs on its lead.
Trying to reach the man who is jogging down the hill.
The park comes alive.
No longer a quiet expanse, but teeming with life.

The time for watching is over,
In the no longer Empty Park