Therapy

Perhaps we should have 

cleaned the house 

sorted out the shed,

weeded the garden,

and cut the grass...

Instead,

a pristine morning beckoned.

Weak against the onslaught

of cloudless promises,

we pack a lunch

and put on our boots.

 

Resting now against the lichens,

my head pillowed by a boot,

yours by an empty sandwich container,

I eat an apple.

 One knee bent, 

the other crossed atop

stockinged foot dangling in the light,

the vast blue bowl above

fringed round with whipped cream clouds.

Far below,

the currents pull and push,

roil against the rocks.

And just beyond,

The sea sky dazzles

a hundred million stars.

  

The long length of you stretches

out along the ground.

Dazed by the sun's ardor

you drift into dream,

awaken and turn to look at me.

Sun, wind, water, sky, trees and rocks

combine in perfection.

There is no story here,

no conflict, no rising action.

Only limpid water,

caressing sun,

unyielding rocks cradling our bodies.

The perfect sky above.

Lorrie Orr 2012

A poem inspired by a hike to Beechy Head, the southern most tip of Vancouver Island, on Good Friday. I think we made the best choice for the day, don't you?

And for those who have asked, the wildflower pictured is a Henderson's Shooting Star, which apparently grows only on the east side of Vancouver Island in British Columbia, and is also abundant on the east side of the Cascades and in California. Click on the link for more information.