Fort Tryone Park


On a perfect presummer morning,
in crystalline air washed clean by last night’s rain,
I walk these ancient sacred hills of glacial granite grandeur,
survivors of a time primeval, long before The Flood.

I feel released as
the spring sprung lock
around my heart
throws open my soul to a flood of windsong joy.

Then, in the non-melodic jabbering,
the rustling bustling wingwhoosh of
soaring swallows
cavorting cardinals,
predatory peregrines,
I feel you near me.

Unlike you,
I never liked birds.
Their unpredicted flight,
their cacophonous calls,
their dripping bowels
terrified me, gave me nightmares.
Their behemoth shadows diminished me.

You found the creatures calming, soothing
Your accustomed darkness turned to blinding glee in their presence.
You laughed at my dread,

                                                                                                                              And I loved you anyway.

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