On the Fringe

An afternoon in the park awaiting the fest to start; Twenty degrees centigrade balmy, in an old tree's shade; Competing chirpy birds with blaring indie verse; Dogs in fours, some twos, digging tails a-wag, twigs they're chasing; Relaxed, breathing in deeply letting out a sigh slowly; From the past, you're set free caring not what will be. 27 May 2007