The wonderment before death
Wandering through sweet gale, waving grass, and rushes so tall I disappear.
Loon and chickadee call out, an eagle cries from above.
Standing in awe at autumns hue of orange fire, red, and brightest yellow; I cannot speak.
A leaf falls from a lonely hobblebush hanging over a brook, swirling floating, caught by rushing water it meanders around rock and driftwood to a destination of new birth.
The last of the withering leatherleaf and sheep laurel like the cattails on the water’s edge begin to sleep.
Purple and pink sage offer up their last pleasant balm enticing me to return in spring, but I will not come.
Granite looms large, beyond the crimson Maple as a forest of Tamarac and Black Spruce, Birch and Aspen follow steep craggy rock, faltering, bowing to its majestic peak.
I call out, “My God how great thou art.”
Kneeling on soft moss I kiss the earth where Heavens Master rests His feet. I have beholden its beauty in my heart, I wish this moment now my last, this place of Butterfly, Bird and Beast.