Mission Walk – by Scott Caputo
From the golden hours of spring heating into summer,
we seek shelter under the long lattice tunnel,
spotlight of sun at the far end,
purple wisteria falling in our faces,
cool breath of moist perfume.
On either side of the covered walkway
stand velvet red and yellow roses, burning in brilliance.
The side door to the mission is propped open,
the voices of the choir practicing their songs of heaven,
timbre of chants and legato,
ocarina of blue bird trills,
murals of angel faces, murmuring.
Only a year ago we were surrounded by wedding white orchids,
tables full of friends raising glasses and drinking champagne.
Then the honeymoon, first dinner parties,
first vacations, a whole year of firsts,
still we are only two.
As we walk down the lattice path,
the spring soil turns under our feet,
the fountains whisper another calling
from the source of the well,
keep my garden green.
Unknown to either of us,
already new life has been implanted,
growing in the dark,
long strands of chords reflecting us both.