Questions of Utility

One wonders if
A pair of forlorn-looking picnic tables
Actually prefer the cool grey wet of an Autumn day
The quiet restfulness of the off-season

Or do they miss
The rambunctious shouts and cries of children playing
The smells of barbecue and potato salad
Some of which still stains their tabletops

A winter is coming with snow and ice
The hardest season on their timbers
Freezing and thawing, crystalline water
Spreading the wood grain, then contracting

Or is it spring they love
When the grass grows green and lush at their feet
When the robins and squirrels return
And a few hearty picnickers brave the crisp, breezy days