A Three-Poem Day at the Park

Benjamin Franklin said to "either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." So today, I took the J-Rex to a new park. As soon as we left the house and began driving through a world in bloom to reach our destination, I knew we, too, would bloom with the season today.

We ate our lunches to jazz while we played with a beautifully gnarled and twisted stick we found, then she ran off to play, leaving me to lay back in the grass and let the beauty of the day wash over me.  It was a three-poem day and the third was what a poem should always be: a true story that attempts to capture the infinite beauty of one small moment in time.  And this moment, while etched in my memory forever as it occurred, was that perfect something worth writing:
 
A Letter to My Daughter When She's Older
 
Do you remember when
We ran through the field of buttercups,
Rolled down the hill,
Flopped on the grass,
Picked a flower each to give to the other,
Said,
"There's something special about a field of buttercups."
"What is it?"
"I don't know, it's just special...
Maybe it's because they smell like freedom..."
"Or Spring."
Then we itched from the grass
And had to leave our resting place under the shade trees.
You said,
"It was a short time,
But it was a beautiful time."
And I agreed.