By midmorning the rings no longer sailed in a hurry. Each one carried a ticket no larger than a petal, paused to greet the peg, waited for the lawn to nod, and only then settled on a single collar, as if that were a full visit.
We asked at the kiosk. A woman with a paper bag of seeds said she had come to feed the sparrows and stayed because the smallest ring held up its pass and waited, like a guest at a garden gate. In the park notebook someone wrote: the peg nodded first, which is better manners than throwing things at sticks.
The keeper pinned a card to the bench: please do not toss from the path, and kindly keep picnic lids closed until the tickets have finished saying hello. By evening the same ring came back, showed its pass twice, and left a quiet circle on the peg that lasted until the first cup of tea.