Contemplation on a bench in the park on a cool autumn day and she reflects on her life and her entrances her exits and her hours no maybe days no maybe months or even years in this very seat in this park in years past and she wonders how to measure her life.
Snow flowers sweat grass-stains dirt ground into her dress as her dress ground into her hips as her hips ground into him and she smiles, red-cheeked, at that steamy memory and she wonders how to measure her time here.
Grammar middle high college grad doctor mother wife retired diagnosed terminal and now she waits here on the bench in the park on this cool autumn day and she reflects on her lessons and she breathes and she smiles and she sees so many choices.
So many ways to measure her life.
Contemplation. As leaves fall upon the ground as leaves fall upon her bench as leaves fall upon her shoulders her lap her face and cover her eyes and they measure her in inches and then feet and then yards and she is covered by the autumn leaves and she waits for them to do their final act upon her.
Baby-blankets quilts backpacks rain-gear grunting man with garlic breath and whispers of love, and children on her breast as she sleeps, and knitted quilts and one day a shroud and she wonders if anyone will remember.
Will anyone remain to measure her life.
Contemplation with no urgency only peace only love only certainty of a life fully lived in this park in this world with her friends with her loves, as the leaves leave the trees till they're bare, and she knows she is ready she has given she can go she can go she can finally let go.
Hand on her shoulder warmth and firmness and calm and timeless and she turns, sees his face and she smiles.
And she smiles and closes her eyes and arises and takes his hand.
And she bids her park goodbye.