A Nearby Park

Motion hangs like a picture on the wall,
circumscribed by four sides, floor, and door,
while process and idleness play tug-of-war
Get up—but from boredom to boredom I fall

Towards novelty, the other side of home
Solitude is parched, for I am not alone

With distance kept, the lap is nearly made,
when suddenly, looking unto thrice trees,
none cast their own shadow, but a unity
Yet this separateness of self, I did not trade