The house was full of too many words,
so I took the train to town and walked
in the park through the silent, soft
afternoon light among red maples, and
yellow ginkgos. The lake was infested
with greedy ducks. A long orange carp
followed me, or perhaps I followed it,
along the bridge. Ducks paddled over
its head begging for bread. Twice it
surfaced and looked as if it would speak
to me, but apparently thought better of it,
and went back underwater. At the bridge’s
end, a father and his little girl fed the mob
of ducks. The carp swam under the bridge.
We parted without speaking.
year-struck 
i liked your silent conversation….
Thank you, Rishabh.
Wish I could write poetry like this.
Thanks for stopping by to read, Trent.
My pleasure. Thanks for the poem.
Well, the last thing you needed was a fish carping at you. Sounds like a nice park, aside from the indecisive fish, that is.
Sometimes silence is the best policy especially when it comes to carping.
You had a lucky escape…those carp are voracious.
It’s amazing to watch them when you throw bread into the water.
Oh, I can’t help but wonder what he would have said to you.
I wonder, too.
But I think you can tell me. 🙂 You always seem to know these things!
Maybe the fish realized that you were escaping a place with too many words and had come to the park for silence and solace. I hope you found both! And good job on ducking the greedy infestation!
Two partings without speaking.
My, that was a soothing experience for me. Thank you for taking me with you.
Thanks for reading, Myra.
A meditation…an observation…simple, precise…a moment we can relate with.
Walking is often the best therapy.
“The house was full of too many words…” I experienced that as well this weekend. I wonder how our empty nest can be so loud sometimes.
Very nicely done.
Thanks so much, K8edid. As much as I love words, sometimes there can be just too many of them. 🙂
I wonder if the park would work when it’s too loud inside my head.
It’s worth a walk in the park to find out.
I am soooo there today…..I wonder if there’s a carp near Oak Park who would almost have a wordless conversation with me.
I hope you found a fish to not talk with.
First time here. I like your poetry and will poke around a bit more. I like your subtitle that refers to old age. I like it when women share their wisdom. Keep at it. Sandy O
Thanks so much for stopping by to read.
There really is no end to your talent, is there? What a beautiful piece of writing. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Susan.
I feel like if I write something here, I’ve added too many words. there’s really nothing else needed in that concise, contemplative piece of prose.
I appreciate your comments. Thank you for reading.