The Bench
by Rob Beckett
Sun onto the
Curving steel
Iron bench arm
In Autumn’s afternoon
Warm and still
Air hangs Around it.
For years alone
On paths’ trod way
From busy terrace
To peaceful rest
Of lunch’s calm
Shadows cross
Darkened grass
In cool trees
Sheltered care
For just a while
To take away
The rushed
And hectic life.