Water cupped in my two hands
Bears the rich taste of the land.
Paths that loved me brought me here:
Eden must be near.
Maybe when I’ve breathed my last,
When what I know of earth has passed,
I will wander, light and free,
Underneath this canopy.
I drink. The water’s fresh and clean,
And I’m forgetting where I’ve been.
Overhead, a pigeon sings
Of love and gentle things.
If I should dive, would I need air?
Perhaps I would thrive swimming there,
Gathering shells and greeting trout.
I’d never come out.
Pigeon pleads for me to stay—
“Really, it’s a lovely day!”
Eden is not far, I know;
There’s nowhere left to go.
Mariella Hunt 