Here in the land of wild azaleas and darlingtonia,
fragrance moves down my body until
I feel like new love.
Roots spread through me downward
into the Siskiyou soil.
Yes, a special place.
The snowy peaks not so far away
stand strong against a late spring sky.
They are shouting to me!
“We have seen you before, Old Woman!
You huffed and puffed up our slopes and
across our monkey-flower meadows.
Swam joyously in our jewel lakes!
We are happy to see you still walking the earth.”
I fill not with regret at my frailty,
nor longing for what is lost.
Not this time. This time
I fill with gratitude for what has been,
and still is, somewhere.
Nostalgia frequently lies like a fog
over true memories buried deep in gray matter.
Thank you, my giant friends,
for offering me a true memory out of the fog!