Time

I sit on the hard straight park bench, and watch the society of people hurrying back and forth. On occasion, one may stop to chat with another, but constantly checks his watch for the clocking of time. Why are the schedules and appointments so important? Why do people shield out with time? … No time to stop and think – to stop and open their sluggish eyes to appreciate the beauty around and above – to stop in the rush, between concrete buildings and plasticeen smiles – to send a sincere smile toward one whom may be in need of such comfort … to stop in time’s tracks, to reach out to touch, to love, and to live. Why? Perhaps they are terrified of the illusion of slowing in time’s hurried pace – to love and truly live – much like the little frisky brown squirrel that scampers from tree to tree in the corners of the park … collecting small acorns. —— Often, a bystander tenderly extends his hand filled with small crumbs of bread … but the small furry creature, constantly on guard, backs off and skids into its hiding place in the unreachable heights of the old hollow tree.  No one or nothing can reach the squirrel until the tiny creature is ready to reveal itself in the open. The innocent bystander only wishes to express a needed love toward someone or something. With this desire in his heart, each lighted day, he continues to approach the little squirrel with an extended hand filled with bits – hoping once – just at least once, the squirrel would gain confidence on its faith and timidly step out on the limb to sniff the nourishment. However, the tiny creature is not yet prepared … so I continue to sit on the hard straight back park bench,  and watch the society of people in a rush for time! 

Past writing – February 1972

How different is this scene – 39+ year later?

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Image Credit

© rgb for “On Dragonfly Wings with Buttercup Tea”, 2011