I Saw a Man in the Park

on a sunny afternoon

playing a big black grand piano,

top open to the world,

he played all the old songs

that I love and even sang

along with a few,

the leaves were beginning

 to fall but the weather

it was fine.

I dont know who wheeled it out there

or what the event was called,

I sipped my coffee

in the shade and watched

the sycamore leaves tumble down

gold against a silver trunk

and thought about Jesus and Zacchaeus

and how it wasn’t this kind of sycamore.

 And I thought about you

and wondered how being

dead was these days.

I miss you now and then

especially when I hear

a melancholy piano on the park