barbara ann smith

Adopted Friends

She saunters
along a gray stone pathway
to her favorite park bench.
Her hand arched around a white cane,
swinging back and forth,
tap, tap, tapping,
searching for familarity.
Maneuvers around obstacles
and landmarks wiser than any tourist guide.

She finds her favorite bench
and sprinkles seeds from a gunnysack,
gives the dirt a dotted effect.
Softly speaking,
her adopted friends alight in trees
chirping and flitting around,
perching on her head and shoulders
and listening to her voice.