The hectic schedule of the last few weeks was beginning to weigh on me. I wanted a break, but since I still have deadlines to meet, I figured, what could be better than to spend an afternoon in Cuenca’s Parque El Paraiso?
Here is my report:
The surface of the lake reflected ripe dandelions.
I watched fish, swimming through the clouds and reeds.
From time-to-time, water would ripple to the shoreline, concentric circles cast in time to a seed dropped by a careless bird, or a stone tossed by someone as they passed.
The eucalyptus trees listened to the breeze gracefully, and lifted their dusty faces, watching a grand armada sailing down the valley. And the grass people bent their heads, yes… no… yes… maybe… patient and obedient, blushing reflected light, whenever the breeze turned their way.
There were birds everywhere. They announced their presence as a song so appealing we often forget that, to other birds, it is a pompous challenge, “I be the most virile Virgo, and I be stylin’ like a Jame ’s flamingo…”.
The boastings of a wren that was once a fanged giant.
I heard people singing. A local church group was practicing by the river. Someone walked up to me and said they come here often for inspiration, the rhythm of the water moved them because it was such a strong presence. She asked if I would like to join them. I respectfully declined. I harbor a bay of tears already.
Lovers graced the benches.
Some were wrapped in an embrace; others held hands like intertwined roots keeping the riverbank on course.
One couple was particularly sparkling; they brought the fireworks of the night with them.
They set a picnic on the lawn, a scattering of food and drink and all manner of sweet surprises. As the young woman sat expectantly, this fresh young man slowly knelt at her feet and offered her a band to tie their love together. They wept with joy.
I left the park to catch a bus home and looked back on all I had seen and heard.
The breeze, songs, river, and tears, retreated to a broken moon, resting on a pillow of clouds.