Bowl 31: Amy

We're walking the trails of the Emerald Necklace,

together and apart.

She is accompanied by her trusty Scout.

I walk alone ...

beneath my feet the softness of eons of life

that have emerged only to disintegrate and emerge again.

around me fallen trees silently transforming,

lichens and mosses hastening the process of melting back into earth.

it is one of those almost solstice days,

the sky is still blue

but there is the feeling of evening settling in despite the early hour.

there is deep silence, 

somehow undisturbed by the distant hum of the first bloom of rush hour traffic.
there is peace,
despite the heartache of the suffering that has been all too present in recent days.

She gazes silently as Scout drinks from a pool . . . they are clearly comfortable companions,

at ease after walking these paths together over many seasons.

"Scout barks at people," she tells me . . . "the rough bark of a hound -- it's not so pleasant."

But he doesn't.

Perhaps he too is hushed by the nearness of the dark and the quiet.

Perhaps he too is feeling this time of turning inward.

 Perhaps he too is quietly waiting for the return of the light.