By Carlos Cardona


I stroll between the Maples and Oaks
Of this heavenly setting,
Making my way through the leaves,
Looking for the sky, but only catching glimpses
Of it through the branches of the tallest trees.

It's hours past noon,
And the sun sinks lower in the sky
With every step I take,
I come to the remains of a bridge
That collapsed long ago, gazin on a scene
That has existed for perhaps millions of years.

I am awed by the grand persistance of Nature,
And my longings humble before it,
If only everyone could sit on this spot
And see what I now see, it would not be long,
Before many would catch on to how they lie.

High, thin clouds race above me,
And suddenly I'm running towards her,
She seems so close, and yet so far away,
Like a film with but one rewinding loop,
"Well, get your frozen butt off that bridge, dummy!
Get moving!"
But what should I answer?
That "trying" doesn't work with Love?