Paradise
debating whether the road would be what it promised,
“Paradise Valley.” We read the sign through the mist,
and decided to turn.
A long green path scattered with foxglove,
buttercups, and tumbled with wild roses sauntered
down tree covered hills to fall gently into a quiet stream.
Bright blue-headed birds darted between branches
to balance on long grass strands leaning
over quiet mirrored pools.
Enveloped in spicy eucalyptus mist,
we wandered beneath swooping crimson rosellas,
leapt across steppingstones, looped through
moss bearded tree ferns to the end of the path
where we stood between fallen logs below
slick black stone, water sliding softly over.
Tonight when I look up into your face
amidst the room’s soft light, I think of that road
and the choice we made to turn down it, not knowing.
And yes, it is paradise—more alive with beauty
than we ever suspected.
At Maits Rest Australia
toss their confetti leaves
into the afternoon light’s gentle lap,
dot the misty air with a celebration
of green pointillist delight.
Lifted out of the dry desert,
we shake the dust from our heads
and drop into the cascading downpour
of leaves falling into crevices, covering
the faerie hollows and leprechaun dance floors.
Slowly, we wander deeper and deeper
into the canyons of color, happy
to be caught in the wet world of life.
Anna Citrino is the author of A Space Between, and Buoyant, Saudade, and To Find a River. You can find her going for walks near the coast or biking on paths through a forest where she lives in Sonoma County. Read more of her writing at annacitrino.com.
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