An Evening In The Garden

I am sitting in the sculpture garden. It is dusk. It is peaceful. The soft, deepening blue-grey of the cloudy sky frames the green foliage like art in itself. Sparse drops of a light rain fall, and are then forgotten. The air is cool and crisp. But it is not cold.

I am perched on a concrete outcropping. I am gazing at a sculpture of modern art. It's clean metal parts, attached by pins and bearings, silently rotate in the barely perceptible breeze.

A mother and daughter pass by. The mother, gently chiding her little one to not frolic too far. The daughter, catching sight of a bronze nude, comments, "Mommy, there's a statue! It looks just like you!" the mother laughs, embarrassed, and they move on.


Time passes. I still sit, trying now to soak in this moment. To freeze it in my heart, and forever carry this peace as MY peace. An inner calm at the center of a turbulent storm.

I think, perhaps, it is working. At least, for a little while.


Distantly, a marching band plays.


It is time for me to go. I stand. And I leave. May I find this again. Sometime.
Thomthehound Thomthehound
26-30, M
1 Response Dec 12, 2012

A beautiful description of a sculpture garden, like out of a poet's diary.