The mountains leaned in to listen.
Winter had been thirsty and brown,
so the late snow flurry felt like a blessing, with
white petals spinning and melting on jackets as hikers streamed inside,
boots damp, faces glowing from the trail.
Marcel painted the air with garlic and clams,
fresh fish bright as silver,
crusty bread torn open and steaming,
charcuterie boards rich with color,
and his Swiss fondue—golden and bubbling—
pulling everyone closer.
Wine swirled ruby and amber in the light.
Friends and family near—
my wife, my daughter Jenni,
Dave and Amanda laughing by the stage—
an afternoon fiesta of harmony and clinking glasses.
The set list bloomed easy and warm,
each song landing just right.
Kind words after the last chord.
An easy drive up the winding road,
an easy glide back home at dusk,
snow tracing the windshield—
a perfect day,
decanted slowly into memory.
