Glorious Weekend

I followed my heart, this Saturday, through the recovered nameless wetland next-door, to the Springwater Corridor trail along Johnson Creek, which is at the bottom of my hill. I hiked along this until the sky began to darken. I took dozens of pictures of whatever appealed to me.

 Sunday, I walked up to Reed College and hiked down into the Crystal Springs Canyon and into the marshes and springs where there is such great beauty. I spent hours exploring and taking pictures. I took over two hundred pictures this weekend and few of them were any good, but I had so much fun and was so full of happiness I felt like I could take off and fly with the robins.

Echoes

I stand

at the foot
of the tree
in the center of the canyon
surrounded by

the symphony
of birds . . .
while the geese
describe enduring
companionship, in boisterous voices

the cries of the children
calling up a hollow trunk. . .
who lives here - who?

while the breast of the
tree swoons
over the marsh like the
prow of a ship at sea. . .
bent by the weathers,
as ageless as grace . . .
and the years of geese
in full throated cry
drumming with a passion,

earthy and ancient as the
loam at my feet.

## 

A tiny brown sparrow
as big as my thumb
traveled along with

me down the pathway
singing winsomely,
"pretty bird - pretty bird,"

a song poised above the rest
of the turbulence
while her blithe fluttering
gave me pause
realizing that winter
had faded away . . .
and I, comforted by her presence

whispered, 

"Yes, you are a pretty bird"

whilst she, like windblown gossamer

faded away 

into the tall grasses.

##

Would You?

If I could give you
the song of the birds as a gift
would you be happy?
would you sing
like the sparrow
hidden under the tuft
seeking life with her
diamond sharp eyes?
Would you?

If I could give you
rainbows to hold in your hand
would you be happy?
would your
smile shine
like the flare of the creek
as it travels
thronged with life
Would you?

If I could give you
the cerulean sky to cover your breasts
would you be happy?
will your heart
melt at the sight
of the sun
knitting patterns of wings
in the drifting mist
Would you?

If I could give you
the lonely star of the north
would you be happy?
would you cry
less in the dark of the night
as the silence gathers like feathers
to cover your weary heart
Would you?

Would you be happy?
 
and I . . .
Would I be content?

 ##

magic drags my vision into the reflection
of the pond;
the sky lends luminosity
striking through the trees,
as radiant as a flame of fire
gnawing through
my cheek bones . . .
while I release all control
and fade away into
the twinkles and dimples of the water
as she smiles at me with all of her
reflective intensity;
she knows the way to charm
and magnetize the unwary traveler,
bearing them into her mesmerizing flow
while the trees bend down their
gnarly branches
to gently touch her face,
stroking and whispering of peace
and quietude
and I hear her sigh as I soar over
her golden ripples.

I am in love with my camera; her pretty face responds to my every touch; she shines for me like a polished apple and she requires only that I stroke her silver buttons and tuck her away in my breast pocket when I long for her safety, yet she swings from my hand with a carefree glee as we walk together through the striking pathways we choose, while we focus on the visions we see, and together we capture our heart's desire, and together we know the magic.