A Summer Day

Cows on a grassy hillside
like marshmallows, depositories
of eatability, vegetarians to
bring peace and play,
soft murmers in foggy voices.

The people in the park
are like that to me, soft
in pastel clothing for peace,
knees always a little bent and
harmless flesh, treble voices
easy to hear, made for babies.

They cluster under milky skies
passing through warm slow breezes,
skating up the hill then
riding down tinkled with laughing
in the band of good times.