Sitting sculptures

The line of cars led from the centre to the exit of the park. We pulled cautiously past pedestrians hunting for a spot. Out of the driver’s seat college students played ultimate Frisbee, out the passenger’s a tot in a pink tutu clutched parental fingers, en route to the ballet.

We dropped off Andrea at an ice cream stand and headed towards the sculpture garden. The parking lot at the zoo was empty. We pulled in and popped the trunk; she put on heels and jeans.

We climbed on the bears and hid in exposed logs of granite wood, exchanged smiles with children on an evening stroll with their grandparents who tugged on arms and said, “Me next??”

Into the fountain we saw our reflections, gliding past green lilies. Sunrays ran through the flowers, sent what was left of the day into the trees. We walked back to the zoo, and booted up the engine.