I don't really like using words like "breathtaking" and "serene" and "dewy morning breeze" so I'll just summarize my feelings with an Englyn unodl:
Haven of games and play thou Bickford Park!
Stone's throw from LinuxCaffe,
Dogs in thy fallen leaves play,
With ease thou showeth the way.
There's not much else to say. Feel free to scatter my ashes here (when I'm dead).
Obligatory Title Pun: BICK of the litter.
Menu Readability: Just the breeze, yo.
Need to mention: This park is probably a mad wicked place to toboggan come winter.
What this place teaches me about myself: Is there anything Welsh shortform poetry can't do?