Memories of a Meadow

It's a meadow on a mountainside.
It matters not where it is
or how it came to be there--
It matters only that it is.

The warming sun soothed my aching limbs
that, too long in idleness, screamed with every step.
An hour's hiking and nearing lunchtime
was excuse enough for me to flop down upon the grass
and breathe the scent of wild flowers,
grasses, and the tangy smell of pine.

I stretched full length upon my Mother's body,
my head resting on a rucksack covered with a jacket.
I felt the breeze, the Mother's breath
upon my flesh; face, arms, and legs.
Then, lulled into a dreamy state, I slept
serenaded by an insect anthem of
trills and chirps and whistles,
and somewhere, a woodpecker
going about his daily chores..

Aware of eyes on me
I scanned the tree line and there,
from the safety of the shadows, a doe
was watching me as I watched her
then, silently she was gone leaving me to wonder
if she had been there at all.

It was time for me to leave,
to shoulder my rucksack and turn
toward home, an hour's hike away

Vi
June 15, 2005