A young man carries a chair
into the meadow where he plans to eat
his sandwich and sip from a can of warm Coke.
He’s far too young to be alone in this life
and even a tiny frayed lawn chair can feel
as heavy as a stranger.
But he’ll get to where he’s going
and lunch with the grazing cows
perhaps sharing with the ancient herd
his photos of the Grand Canyon.
Maybe he’ll let loose a secret or two,
let his mind mosey into the beauty
as it scolds him for not noticing it earlier –
the great green pasture;
the attendant niceties of color and line,
love and sorrow sneaking in beneath the fences
pretending to look like something else.