the gift of a day

clarity with the morning

first light calls songbirds to chirp and tweet and warble,

they’re almost frantic in their flight

as if they’re late and rushing to be somewhere,

an occasional heron or raptor 

purposefully makes its way to another somewhere,

today we aim to push ourselves a bit,

so we drive to the other side of the range

and pull ourselves up a high valley--

lush with ponderosa pine, Douglas fir, and Engleman spruce,

here flowers wild themselves everywhere

as if every turn in the trail is a new garden:

great swaths of golden yellow from arrow-leaved balsam root,

masses of precise purple larkspur join them on the dry slopes,

while bluebells crowd the dropping creek,

flower after flower call to our eyes and my camera,

how wonderful it is

that our bodies still rise to the challenge to respond

to what our souls call to us

to know, to love, to appreciate,

and how wondrous it is that the universe has gifted me

with a partner that completes me at the heart,

and helps me rise to where the present can gift me with such a day.
 

by Henry H. Walker

June 19, ’13