Big Morongo Canyon Preserve (12)

Like another world, even in summer. Stopping to study the kiosk, outlines of birds of prey on floor and walls, coded to match up flight outlines, names--ingenious, quaint, giving knowledge. A family ahead of me, disappearing down the raised walkway. Then there is no one but me. Lush, green, quiet. Stark brown hills nearby sharp against the blue, so different from the greens surrounding me. A butterfly garden with all the plants labeled. More sweetness, another offering. So silent. Little benches tucked away, generous, beckoning. I am afraid to sit, afraid of what might come to me from below the jungle walkway. Smiling at myself, but staying upright. Meandering more than walking, like swimming a soft breast stroke in a quiet stream. No destination. Birds calling, unseen. Big white flowers everywhere, reminding me of calla lilies. Later, a bench I deem safe, a rest. Water beneath you in other seasons. I am eager for it.

Yerba mansa