UNCLE OTAY

There he stands across the two lane road beyond the single ancient oak tree,  

and high above, portly yet well-muscled, avuncular and verdant under April’s ambivalent skies, rain one day, golden sunshine the next. He welcomes us

like a couple of errant nephews truant from junior high and eager to try out

a new slingshot and these cheap binoculars under the friendly gaze

of Uncle Otay, and what’s best, without threat of stifling rules or stern adult oversight.

Whispering with the wind down the canyon to our right, we hear his only mandate 

is to be safe, to wander freely, to take some chances when he might not be looking, 

to stick together here in his magic garden of meadowlarks, swirling hawks, Tecate cypress spilling down distant ravines, cougar prints embedded in mud, the scary 

but exciting possibility of rattlesnakes lurking now that weather is warming, wildflowers bursting like fireworks everywhere you look and huge hunks of granite guiding a secret waterfall as it tumbles wildly, noisily into a deep chasm engraved 

into Uncle’s almost infinite depths. And he wishes us to be enchanted often in our wandering.

Many hours later and after wolfing down cheese sandwiches and handfuls

of cashews sprinkled with raisins, we rest on warm boulders overlooking

the rushing stream beneath and quietly ponder this long day of roaming

with all senses deliciously ablaze. Now Uncle asks us only to thank the many 

denizens of his kingdom for graciously accepting our presence here and to please close the front door quietly as we step off his green slopes away from the thick meadows, these towering stacks of gray rocks and his uncanny calm, his soothing silence, past the gnarled leafy oak tree here at his feet and into our waiting car parked along the two lane road.

Removing our boots and packs but not our joy nor our well-nourished hearts,

our shimmering sturdy bodies weary, ready for home, we look back and up

once more and in the settling light of dusk we just make out our Uncle’s wink,

his easy smile, as growing darkness kisses his balding crown.