Common ground

The city has been digging up my park all year, and it's full of chainlink, machinery, and holes.  I've had to walk all the way round it, instead of cutting through:  a great annoyance.  Still, the oldest trees remain (knock wood), though the foliage this year is not as glorious as many.  And the playground still makes me want to be seven.  Besides the Viking ship, there are amazing things to climb on and gyre in, swings (too small for narrow grownups, much less me), and a little labyrinth, no more than a curve and a curve-back and a curve:  but it's higher than a small child's head, and there's a secret place inside it, with a curved bench.  I wish I'd had it to read in.

Nine