They said it was quiet. Not here.
With the spouting fountain, the heavy bridge weeping. Kneeling.

The tree screaming.
Not here.

On a borrowed bench. Deaf, distracted, ear drums ringing.

Lovers on a blanket, drinking.
A cyclist peddling in slow motion, wreeee. wreeee. Stripy headband. Knee socks. A backpack. Wreeee. Wreeee.

Tourists too tired to walk, to talk, to care about the next.
Volley ball players cycling a trunk, hands in the air. Glistening.

Mobility scooter goes over the bump. Gets too close.

It caresses. Soothes.
Holding the many.

We shift in the shade. Watching.

I look up.