“I love to watch sunsets from the top,” she
said, pointing as if toward stars not yet there.
I took a chance: held her hand. She led me
up West Summit Trail seeming without care,
sure of each step as if returning home,
as if oaks, pines, limestone boulders were all
old friends. She stopped, gazed smiling. “Now we’ve come
to my favorite place.” Spreading arms, she called
out to the valley, “Hello!!!” It echoed
in muffled songs like ancient memories.
Dusk turned clouds and lake to fire. Burning flowed
to and through me. Yet she seemed so at ease.
I touched her face. She kissed my lips. The lark
sang as we scurried down to beat the dark.
Roger Armbrust
August 8, 2018
