Snapshot

Frozen moment of a photo does not tell
the entire tale. We see a woman at a park
but wonder why she is alone. A choice,
a break, a little time away from all the
stress she feels at home, dependent on
a passerby to take the shot. We do not
feel the breeze or hear the birds as she
sat, peaceful once again, beneath a tree
at highest point in state to listen to the concert
of the bells that sang to her from
wondrous tower, do not see the
bravely swimming koi with broken tail,
or hear the snips of conversation from
the groups around. The sun is clearly
shining, but within the hour, the clouds
converged and caught her underneath
another tree that could not shelter her
from brief but heavy storm that left
her laughing, but quite wet, shoes in
hand and headed past the flowers
and the squirrels to the gift shop,
nearest shelter where she dripped
rain onto the floor and flipped through
books and picked up objects that she liked
to check the prices but did not buy a thing.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013