A Picnic Betrothal

Ron Koppelberger

A Picnic Betrothal

Gamble Awe studied the humble embrace of green grass and wild forest daisies. The Picnic basket weighed heavy in his right hand. “Sweet eras of youth and gentle dreams of beauty.” he sang aloud.
Setting the basket down he surveyed the small clearing in the dense forest. The scent of fried chicken and the promise of chilled Burgundy excited his grumbling and gauntly defined stomach. Gambol opened the wicker basket and pulled out a crisp blue sheet checked and faded from use. After laying it across the grassy leaf strewn slope and shadowy clearing in the path he sighed and whispered, “For only a moment the view coming to a lovers request, an aged wish for a companion dream.”
Gambol sat on the sheet his aching arthritic legs consenting to the rest. The chicken was sealed in a green plastic bowl and the Burgundy in a small thermos; unscrewing the lid he let the fragrance flow into the air.
The creature hid in the thistle and Palm scrub, watching, she relaxed and hummed releasing her instinctive balance, a fawning desire to restore the man, to fulfill his wish and her need to remain secret. He ate and sipped at the perfumed drink. She sniffed the air with slender tend riled coils and silky fluttering wings, great mosaics in hues of scarlet and gray. She rustled the bushes around her and shivered as she edged closer to the man.
Gambol took a bite of chicken and froze. He sensed something in the thicket near the far side of the clearing. He quickly emptied the thermos and his head swam in heady mists. Peering into the woods with aged blurry eyes he said, “Show yourself, I can hear you!” He considered the possibility that a bear or a curious Raccoon had made the noises.
The brush shook and parted; he screamed, “Oh my God………what!”
She moved to the man and touched him softly, he fell and slept. She coiled a long tendril into his hand and pulled him upright. He was frail she thought as she restored him, lines of age disappearing and strength, she returned his strength.
When she was finished she opened her great motley wings and flew to the tree tops away from the man. She had revealed herself to him, he would search for her and the idealist in her hoped for communion with the man, nevertheless she took the memory from him. He would remember roses and sunshine instead.