Wildflower Hike
by Wesley D. Sims

Awoke before dawn, thoughts swirling
like a blooming tornado, needing calm.
Hurried breakfast, dashed out the door.
We met at the upper pasture gate
and hiked to the wooded hills as the sun
began slatting through near-naked
limbs of hardwoods. Just-awakened
trees boasted swatches of leaflets,
their pastel colors recently pulled
from tender buds. We inhaled the aroma
of sprouting plants awakening through
the floor of dead leaves. Exiting skinny
shadows, we walked into brightening sunlight.
Ambled down the sloping hillside and began
to sing some happy tunes as we strolled
through wildflower dotted meadows, feasting
our eyes on patches of bluets, forget-me-nots
and poppies, filling our souls with mood
medicine, launching worried thoughts
skyward like swallows taking flight.
At the creek, we lunched with the concert
of Robins and Chickadees celebrating Spring.
We headed back along the fading horse trail
stepping lightly as saddle mares. Back home,
we climbed the steps and hung old fears
like worn jackets outside on the porch,
shut yesterday’s pending decisions in a back
room closet and blocked the door with the chest
of clothes that don’t fit anymore.



 

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