When on holidays I saw a lady.
She had a lovely head of white hair and a gentle wrinkled face.
She strolled like a wise and holy woman but
instead of a habit
she wore a canary yellow windbreaker.
She moved with her hands behind back, confident and contemplative.
I sat on my bench, my book in my lap, and watched her as she stopped at each flowerbed bending to more closely appreciate their colourful arrangements.
Between flowerbeds she would smile and say “hello” to every person she passed, including me,
as I sat on my bench.
As she made her way around the park, she came upon another woman
rummaging though the garbage.
I had seen this woman before, collecting cans up and down the main promenade. Wearing her uniform: a knee-length grey sweater and floppy sunhat.
She smiled at people too but had no teeth.
The wise woman…
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