mrjeffmccarthy.com

February but warm and sunny as hell, the mingling sounds of screeching children and tires. A hot rod roaring up a side street, tee shirts in the park hanging out in sun.  The evergreens tower, sentinels at the edge of the ball field basking.  I toss a stick repeatedly for Jelly; she scrambles for it with dog ethic.  Jam lopes silly about her, clueless to the simple game.  I pause and palm my phone and put on some music, ear-buds with a swinging cord.  Selecting tunes I find a fave and flick it on, smiling.  Sensing a waiting dog-with-stick I bend knees and exhale reaching.  She snaps and snarls as I pull back, then turns and burns as I fling it end-over-end outward.  A roiling ball of fur exuding gratification.  The dogs grin and run; but sit still, smelling the air when I grab a bench.  A chill breeze lifts my head  and I spot a knit-capped mom pushing a tricycle style carriage.  We all sit and watch a dog poop in the distance.  Jelly, turning quizzically, her eyes asking: February?  I wander into the trees and am followed by a close pack panting.  I pull out my phone and start typing, words flowing with a rambling lyricism, a randomized algolrithm, thumbs pounding with deliberate grace.  Popping pics and emailing them, I shake my head,  blogging in the park on a warm winter day.