We park in the
nature preserve near a path that leads downward. On our left is a pond edged
with water lilies and lotus blossoms. Along the outer edge grow reeds and
bulrushes. A familiar sound causes us to
turn towards it.
an ancient poem–
a pond, a frog,
a beginning with
A rustle in the
reeds attracts our attention again. This time, it’s a painted turtle with a
shell about six inches long, moving slowly toward the pond. After watching it
quietly slide into the water, we begin our descent. The dirt path is rutted and
peppered with loose stones.
slow and steady
to keep our
years of marriage
there is still a
plants fill in the spaces between mature trees, the green enlivened by
occasional clusters of small pink or white blossoms.At the end of our descent is a thick growth
of ferns in various sizes and species, from a single shoot of only a few inches
to others two and three feet high and just as wide across.
We’re the only
ones here, but others have come before us.