Mountain Picnic

Michelle McGrane

Remember that first weekend
we met, we jumped into
your car, drove up
through the mountains, excited
but unsettled by this
spontaneous advent.
You wanted to hike,
I wanted to swim, you
let me have my way.
We lay down along
the narrow river's
edge, shared a threadbare
orange towel, watched
the water dip and swirl,
sweep round mossy
boulders. Inspired by
the scenery, I told you
you had eagle's eyes.
We drank pink champagne
from long-stemmed flutes, ate
leftover chocolate cake,
talked quietly, sticky hands
entwined, you stroked my
face, head cushioned
in your lap. Brooding clouds
rolled over blue peaks,
it began to pelt warm
summer rain, but we were
wet already. Giddy
with wine and secrets,
bedraggled, grinning ear to
ear, something unaccountably
light was born.

LitNet: 3 December 2004

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