Hillside View

Gramado, Brazil

A wooded area slopes off to the side

I can feel the age of the trees

They're aware of me,

But don't seem to mind

Their quiet loosely enclosed

Allowing the ins and outs of bluebirds and time


Squirrels skitter and jump from oak to birch

Cheering the sense of reverence

Lightening it's heart with an offbeat dance,

Like children in too-formal church.


I inhale the serenity as my eyes reluctantly close against the sun

I'm aware of the apple orchard growing around my back

The fruit would fill only half my hand if I were to grasp it now

But patches blushing red hint at the sweetness to come



A haze veils the hillside before me

Cows settle under the trees, huddling in the shade

As if they had forgotten their sunscreen

Their tails fanning pests away


I love this hill

It reminds me of my father

But he wouldn't be sitting still on this bench like me

He would be running or riding or reiterating his point.

He thinks best when he moves--when he labours to breathe

I feel him close

Spotting squirrels and picking apples

Memories and anticipation bring him home

And as I watch the road he loves to travel

I find myself deeply grateful

Though sometimes we wrestle, we often disagree

He loves me enough to fight for me


That is ample comfort for today

Sacred shade for the heat of the day

Originally Posted 2010