Letter on the path
We took a well-worn dirt path into the park, instead of driving down the steep hill. Purple and white phlox bloomed in the meadow around the first bend. Like paint spilling from an overturned bucket, the flowers rushed to the edge of the tree line and trickled through the dark tree trunks. I spotted the letter when the path turned again towards the park. It was wedged in a hollowed out tree. The girls ran ahead as I unfolded the paper. I read the words written in black ink.
Your eyes. Stars without beginning or end.
I love you.
I reread the note. A black squirrel ran across the path, chittering as he ran by me. A blue heron flew overhead. His wings rustled with each flap in the wind. I folded the paper and tucked it in my pocket. The words hung like dew on spider silk. I zipped the pocket shut and hurried to catch up with the others.