Plop me down here for a while. Obscure my view with clouds and make me wonder what peaks lay hidden. Fill the air with cottonwood seed and bring up a breeze so those seeds sail over the water; or let the water be flat and calm like a mirror. I’ll just drink of the view and do a bit of thinking. I may think about my problems, the world’s problems, or the problem of how a bird’s feather can be iridescent green one moment, and purple the next. Maybe I’ll think about nothing at all. Maybe I will be in the moment, here, now.
Whatever I do, I’ll be content with my place in the world and happy to be away from a roof and walls and tarmac and advertising. The marmots and mallards will be the only aggressively consumptive animals present: driven by survival, not greed. They’ll teach me to put on some fat, store some wood for winter, or perhaps if I’m lucky, to learn about migrating to warmer shores.
And, if I’m really lucky I’ll stay long enough to have the essence of this place permeate my cells. It will be a part of me and I’ll carry it with me when I go.