monologue in a park

In a park, 13 May 2015. -

I'm sitting in the park of our local Wildlife Trust branch or whatever this beautiful place is. It is late in the afternoon but it is very hot and very quiet. The sun is burning down and there are some people sitting on the lawn. The grass has been cut recently and everything smells like hay. The blades of grass stick to everything.
I've taken off my shoes and the grass is surprisingly warm under my bare feet.

You can hear the cars in the distance, but birdsong drowns the noise. The buildings along the street are covered by trees. Everything is green, except for a few trees covered in white blossoms and a few buttercups. Tiny flies buzz above everything. On the right side stands an old, romantic brick wall. Behind it you can see a beautiful, full garden. I don't know what this garden belongs to, maybe to the building of the Wildlife Trust.

A woman sitting up the hill a little further behind me is talking a little bit too loudly.

I can't describe how beautiful this exact moment at this exact place is. The sun is so bright and everything around me is so green and peaceful and ALIVE.
I'm almost glad being on my own, because I couldn't even start expressing how beautiful it is right now.

The smell of hay reminds me of summers as a child.

You can pick the cut, dry grass off the fresh green blades underneath. Do animals eat this dry hay or do they get it when it is still fresh and not as dry yet? I never thought about that.

I wish sometimes I was gifted in any kind of arty way. I wish I could write poetry or sing or dance. I think I would like singing or dancing the best, because I sometimes simply want to scream or jump around when I see or experience something very beautiful or moving.

The loud talking lady behing me is starting to annoy me. I can blank out the cars, but not her voice.

I think if there is a Heaven, I would like to have one that looks exactly like this spot. But even calmer and with a few more flowers. I would wear a light, long, white summer dress and walk on bare feet.

I can't believe how beautiful the birdsong is. It seems quite distant but it is perfect.

I haven't been here for long but the skin on my face feels tight from the heat.

There are some couples laying around me and I imagine laying here with a man. We wouldn't talk, but both of us would read or I would doze off without him thinking I am ugly. I would caress the grass with my bare feet and he would love that.