Lobos Creek Valley Trail
Not knowing we’d go on a walk after meeting up for coffee,
I’ve left the binoculars at home. The ones I gifted you
when we were on a birding kick in Ireland. I don’t need them,
though, to identify the mockingbird you ask about.
Since it’s so close to Clement Street, you’ve already explored
this place, know which path leads to where we’ll part ways.
We are both taken aback by the superbloom of wildflowers.
A park billboard confirms the presence of sticky monkey flower,
Indian paintbrush, silver lupine. I tell you about the Palm Sunday
procession down Rua da Prata in Lisbon last week, how I heard
the microphoned chanting before I saw congregants
making their way into a church you’d have loved.
