Blackstone Park

My wife and I Visited our daughter and her husband in tiny Rhode Island Newlyweds living in The city of Providence and hope We got up early Saturday Feeble ray of light Barely touching the horizon Dense purple void below Adventure in her voice Wife said Let’s wander The house is quiet And the kids are still asleep. We walked through a cold morning Not far but just enough For the houses behind us to disappear from view Ahead we saw Tall trees Hidden behind them a river called the Seekonk Native American For Black Goose Getting closer we found a winding a path She gave her hand to me As we walked through a quiet place Of brown leaves, bare trees Here and there patches of green grass Surviving a chilly Fall Further and further We went Off in the distance we saw a lonely figure And on the river People rowing Strangers smiled Read an old weather beaten sign That welcomed us to Blackstone Park Stopped near the water’s edge Looking down To a tide that had run out the night before Exposing a thin sand Imagination believing Each tiny grain Was a person, place or thing. We returned To meet two sleepy faces Daughter anxiously asked where we were Silly Children, my wife replied Your parents were never lost.