Flat Iron Trail

The path descends before us,
Sun ricocheting through salal and alder.
Wild iris pop up through the tapestry
of fine grass and ginger, wood violets and
wild cucumber, tendrils coiling into mid-air.
A spider has composed the finest
of symphonies, cow parsnip to red currant.

A shy and endearing Wrentit
chants her quickening melody
and then, lovingly, the Sooney Bird
stands perfectly still, focused,
ears and eyes home in on the bird
one hundred feet up. Here, she says,
is something special.

—Terry and Marty Karlin