One lap around the hill
the one that overlooks the ballfield
where little leaguers dream big
fathers raise rallying cries
and mothers pray for a miracle
This is our hill
a modest green elevation of earth
that offers that simple kind of joy
found only in nature, God, and
the spirit of Love’s connection
Our hill has a winding path encased by
eastern red-bud trees in spring
where clusters of fuchsia buds
break through the deep grooves
of winter’s bark
This is where we go for our walks
two furry tails before me
undulating in synchronized fashion
one as gentle as a willow’s branch
the other flitting like the wings of a hummingbird
Before we make our final descent, we pause
perceiving a wide smattering of wild violet
that spreads across a once-green lawn
We remain there for several minutes
“Isn’t it lovely?” they seem to ask in the stillness
Years later, I walk in solitude
Upon descending, I again meet the wild violet
their small glistening petals
as numerous as the stars
hundreds, maybe thousands…
like the tears I’ve shed
over the loss of my two darling dogs
Mary C. M. Phillips
Mary C. M. Phillips is a caffeinated writer, musician, and spoken-word artist. Her essays and poems have been widely published. As a musician, Mary has recorded and toured with several major label recording artists. Visit her at https://caffeineepiphanies.com