If I could choose a moment,
To be my eternity,
It would be that one,
Sitting above the Bow River,
On that high Banff perch,
Above the Rocky Mountains.
And your head on my shoulder,
A gentle weight, a whisper of trust,
Underneath the vast, open sky,
Where time slowed to a tranquil crawl,
And the world held its breath,
In reverence to our fleeting, infinite embrace.
The Bow's waters shimmered below,
Their melody a lullaby to our souls,
As we traced the contours of the mountains,
With fingers intertwined, hearts entwined,
Lost in the beauty of the present,
In the grandeur of the now.
The Rockies, ancient sentinels,
Stood guard over our moment,
Their peaks kissed by the setting sun,
A masterpiece of nature's design,
But it paled in comparison,
To the masterpiece we created,
In that eternal moment,
With your head on my shoulder.
She is wearing fuchsia, he told me.
It was easy to see her now.
No wonder he was smitten.
She had a confidence that uplifted the garden.
The other flowers paled in comparison.
I am shy, he told me. I cannot do this!
You are a bee, I said sternly. She is expecting you.
He made a couple of attempts to sidle up, but failed.
You do it, he told me. I’m not ready.
I rolled my eyes.
Why do monarchs always have to lead the way?
Is it only in this garden or is it every garden?
When I got closer I veered off.
Also intimidated.
I had never seen a blossom this lovely.
Long ago I had a coroner friend.
He unloaded many tales of great darkness
People passing away in strange ways-in strange places.
Distorted postures in a maggot's buffet.
People going out for a bite to eat-
but never returning.to families.
His impression and confessionals never leave me.
I shared some of my stories with him.
But they paled in comparison to his.
I doubt if he remembers any of them...
Does any remember a twig 'neath a redwood tree.
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