A Message From Ing

Donald L. Engstrom

Spring, © 2002

    Ing and I were lounging on a pure white thick cotton blanket in a field of blooming white clover. The clover blossoms were so thick that the field looked as if it was covered with snow. Their heady sent filled the fresh spring air. We were dressed in white summer tuxedos and drinking Champaign from tall crystal clear flutes.

    Ing leaned over and whispered into to my ear in the same manner as a lover whispering sensual secrets into their lover’s ear. Ing’s lips purred deep into my very heart and loins,

“Plant as if you will live forever.

Live life fully, knowing that you may die tomorrow.”

    Spirals of rubies began to lazily spin up out of the clover field disappearing into the clouds far above.

    We kissed each other tenderly on the lips arousing the longings we held for each other deep in out flesh, knowing that they would soon be satiated.

    An fruit orchard of ancient trees intermingled with newly planted saplings appeared in front of us.

    The air began to slowly turn pink, then gold, then red, then orange.

    Suddenly, I found myself where I had begun my journey, sitting in a lawn chair in my own back garden. I got up and went into the kitchen to mix myself a gin and tonic. I went back outside and walked about cherishing the joys and wonders of gardening.