At the end of my road is a spectacular viewing point over looking the valley and the River below. At sundown, a sort of magic fills the air and the likes of all kinds are drawn here.

Some I connect with, such as my neighbors who saunter down with their two dogs and sit quietly on their camping chairs drinking their sun downers.

There are some I don’t connect with so much- like the owners of the black ram draped in hockey sticks and Canadian flags; reving their engine to charge their phones, wholly ignorant of the rest of the gazers forced to breath their fumes and listen to their thumping beat.

Nonetheless, they are drawn here too.

Over there, parked along the road, is the young teenage couple sitting in the back of his dad's pick up romatically reading the bible together in the sunset. When I unavoidably walk by, they jump, fix their hair and lift their bible high in the air. They must have accidently dropped it.

Behind us, is the owner of the house facing the sunset, let’s call him Dave; morning after summer morning, Dave goes outside to clean up the trash that is deposited outside the visitors windows every night.

I was young once, he says without a hit of judgment. I remember.

Oh, and here is Veronica, the recent widow who lives across from us, coming down the road now.

And, finally, down at the far end of the cement barrier is the group of friends from the local high school meeting to smoke cigarettes and capture Sophia on their mobile phone as She sets behind the Valley.

Only, no camera can capture Her. Only those who come in person can see her and hear Her sing Her Creation song..

It is good...

It is good...

It is good...

Her soft tune woos and lures all who are near… to come closer.

To stay longer.

Though we don’t all know why; we cannot leave just yet.

Young and old, respectful and disdainful.

She sets behind the mountain singing to all who listen

I am yours...

I am yours…

I am yours.

 
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