St. Francisco in the Park

I'm in Scofield Park, past the war monument. Looking for Lao Tzu, I see, of all persons, St. Francis of Assisi.

"Hello Francisco."

St. Francis smiles, and motions me to sit on the bench. He is so sweet, so childlike, insisting on holding my hand as the wind blows autumn's leftover leaves higher and higher, towards the green line.

Soon, many birds are all around us, then they are sitting on us, chirping and nibbling on St. Francisco's robe. People are curious, but we are so peaceful, they don't interrupt.

We see Lao Tzu walking up the street, into the park, and up the hill where we sit. St. Francis gets up, saying goodbye to me with his eyes. He and Lao Tzu depart like the two dear freinds they have always been.