I’m late again; step on the Lime bike’s stop-start whirr, through the familiar one-way streets, and under the gate – to keep us out, or keep the green in? You’ve passed this park in a blur; a handy cut-through, a scenic shortcut. Today is slower, for once. Watch the sun flit across the grass like a kid reflecting their watch onto someone’s face. Look closer, there’s lessons there. Yes, even there! Flip over that log, peer inside those tempting buds, imagine the city beneath these roots. See new flowers with unknown names: the Box Elder’s samba skirt, the Katsura peeping over the Rose Garden wall. Heartwood, sapwood, lightening-wood (God-wood)… fallen-wood. Ginkgo-wood changing sex at will. Flash of bright-red Lime-wood. Oakwood, king of the woods – seen it all, felt it all – got 700-years’ worth of scars to prove it all. And to think some pricks try and burn them all.