Prescott Park

People stop to smell the flowers in gas masks.

I wonder who keeps the Mayflowers at Prescott Park,
Wonder who keeps the Marigolds on Marcy Street.

I wonder at the Mayflowers at Prescott Park,
Wonder how they stay and go year to year.

I wonder of Plymouth down the coast,
Wonder of Mayflower landings to our land.

This Land.

"A rock don't do much; don't grow."
A mouth-masked kid said.

How many Mayflowers drift into Prescott Park?
How many wind glide and set down seeds each new May?

I wonder how many minutes and myths make a Plymouth rock grow.
Wonder if the scent and sense of flowers in May can ring memories

Through blue masks, of the scented and sensible ways
Of Marigolds and Mayflowers, in May, on Marcy Street.