Dawn in the Park

Dawn stood in the Parc Floral de Paris watching a honeybee pollenate its yellow and black fuzz off a flamingo pink dahlia flower. The bee buzzed and floated to the next flower and drank the nectar in the sunny afternoon.

It carried the pollen on its small abdomen and buzzed away; Dawn followed the bee with her eyes and let it carry her sight, bringing her to a flock of Canadian geese that walked along the green grass beside a garden of indigo irises that drooped fragile, rubbery petals. The geese craned their black masked heads and white necks down into the greenery and grazed on the grass gently, occasionally taking a small step with their webbed feet.

The geese finished their summer snack and expanded their brown-feathered wings and rose into the pale, baby blue sky; directing Dawn’s attention to the cumulus clouds suspended over the Château de Vincennes like weightless wisps of cotton drifting sideways. The clouds held cups of sunshine to shade the shamrock cedar trees below, which trickled scents of resin and pencil wood down onto a family resting on a blanket of seed cones in the cooler shade it provided.

Dawn watched the family eat spoonfuls of strawberry yogurt flipping the stainless steel spoons over onto their tongues and coating it with smooth vanilla cream and globs of sugary citrus strawberry puree. A mother cut peeled mandarin orange slices into half pieces for her young children, spilling pulp droplets on their chins; and their mother wiped their soft faces with cotton bibs.

Dawn looked away from the family and saw the candied glow of corn colored light that cloaked the Parc Floral de Paris from the sun above. She saw all the families that appreciated the serenity in the park, pushing empty strollers as children frolicked on the lawn, admiring the gardens of rainbow flowers. Dawn looked up at the sun; drinking in the sunlight like wine, she closed her eyes to bathe in the rich warmth that wrapped around her arms and cheeks like a sweater of love.

When she opened her eyes she saw the beautiful life that filled the Parc Floral de Paris once again. She saw the cumulus cotton clouds that hung over the cedar trees that perfumed the sky with resin and she saw the families sharing the company of each other and laughing under the golden sun. Dawn watched the flock of Canadian geese migrate from the park over her head, soaring in the sky. As the geese flew past, a small honeybee came floating down like a feather in soft wind, resting on a dahlia flower.

Dawn looked around once more. She realized this could be seen every day if she only took the time to notice.