I went back down to Kiwanis Loop

thinking maybe I'd find you there.

Instead I passed the same worn graffiti,

blue spray paint on the rock wall.

You took a picture of a white wildflower

and showed me how clear and beautiful it was.

The kids were tired,

so we backtracked up the hill.

You paused at the bottom for several minutes.

I was annoyed I had to wait.

Then you told me you had carved our initials

on a tree with lots of other peoples'.

I went back down to Kiwanis Loop,

the tree still stands at the bottom of the hill.

I paused for several minutes.

I touched the space you had carved out in the tree,

thinking maybe I'd find you there.

I looked at all the other peoples'

wondering if any (of them) had done the same.

I walked down the dampened, muddy trail

alone.

White, purple and yellow wildflowers,

the season slow in bloom.

The trilling of the birds, singing to my melancholy.

I found a path dug out of the earth

to walk down to a rock ledge on the creek.

As I sat there I watched

the millions of insects dancing on the water,

pinging off the surface.

I heard several fish come up, slapping the surface, maybe taking a breath.

Though they both touched there,

they would never meet each other.

A mosquito floated down onto my hand,

as if to say hello.

It floated off just as quickly as it came,

as the wind picked up speed, rustling through the trees.

I felt the wind on my face,

I listened to its song,

and the babbling, trickling water as it flowed by,

ripples of sunlight shimmering on its surface.

Past an embankment and up over a hill,

through the beech trees and the birch trees,

the sun shone glimmering free.

I watched its shape change through

the branches and the leaves.

I sat there in the stillness and watched the sun set,

slowly sinking

down behind the hill until it was gone.

By Melissa Lemay

From: United States

Website: https://melissalemay.wordpress.com