humans in the parc de la poudrerie

The leaves vibrating in the trees muffle the sounds of a not-so-distant civilization. Faint echos of human children, an ambulance siren, a whinnying police horse: timeless and familiar human sounds.

Somewhere on a distant planet, I am listening to these sounds on a scratchy record.

Don’t mind me.

My heart sinks at the sight of heart-shaped scars carved into some solemn, magnificent trees.

An old German Shepherd solemnly trails behind its masters with slumped shoulders.

A couple stops to kiss under the shimmering tree canopy, fully ignoring or fully aware of my alien presence.

There seems to be some collective human knowledge that this is just a hiccup - a temporary lapse in human chaos.

I take note.

Startled by the sound of cackling teenagers, a coot skids closer behind its mother on a pond’s surface.

I look up at the trees, stalwart like flying buttresses.
I think

If only humans whispered in forests
like they do in cathedrals. © 2022
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)