"In nature, death is life." --Dr. John Fitzpatrick, Director of the Ornithological Lab at Cornell University, May 19, 2010
Heartened by the scientist's words,
I finally allow myself to be taken to
My hiker's Paradise Lost,
My Eden.
More barren than my worst fears
The lunar landscape
Bears no resemblance to
The lovely Garden I knew so well.
Black spindly fingers reach heavenward.
Can it be that we still smell smoke?
Ancient forests of Manazanita, Jeffrey Pine, my beloved chaparral
All gone.
And yet
Frail white flowers invite a closer look.
Our examination reveals hills covered with a blooming crayola rainbow--
Magenta, goldenrod, periwinkle, lemon yellow--
Monkey Flower, Penstemon, Lupine, Poppy--
The variety astounds and delights.
At another stop, myriad frenzied birds--
Lazuli Bunting, Black-headed Grosbeak, Blue-grey Gnatcatcher--
Greet us with a schoolyard chorus of
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus
Or is it a requiem?
My eyes, my heart struggle to reconcile the
Visions before me.
Black skeletal former-forests carpeted with exquisite
Velvety green and white, filled with clouds of fuschia.
Powdery ashy dusty rock echoes with the life-giving flow of water.
Spring-tender oak leaves sprout at the base of charred stumps.
I feel my cheeks grow damp with tears that flow
Unbidden from my tired swollen eyelids.
Tears of hope? Dispair? Loss? Renewal?
In times like these, who can tell?
Gloria in Excelsis Deo.
