if only these pics were perfect
as perfectly peaceful as they appear
and no one lost a phone (and all the love attached) to a lake
and no one said they hated each other
and no one lied to their mother
and no one cried.
but life isn’t this lake
this quiet Kentucky fishing lake that we ruined with six screaming kids and one barking dog
this peaceful lake for paddling or praying or both
this swimmable, all-ours, wake-free lake.
Life is this lake, isn’t it?
Perfect and not so perfect.
nothing like my park
and isn’t that so perfect?
vines, dogs, shade, creeks, peace.
nothing like my path
and isn’t that so perfect?
sun, hills, curves, town, bike.
not what i dreamed of
for our family vacation;
pretty all the same
you wouldn’t believe
how fire Kentucky is
sunsets, family, all
Kansas welcomes us
for our pandemic travel
and his first crossing
this is our family
working through each glittered pic
and this quarantine
magic pupusas
like play dough for my nieces
home cooked by my son
side of garden leaves,
fresh cut perfect peonies,
beauty from our home
hiking out hurts us
(to face the world’s anger
instead of these trees)
from aspens to pines
peaks and creeks guide our soft steps
toward tranquility
the packing ordeal
of a backpacking journey
is so exhausting
for these quiet views
we walk into the forest
leaving all behind
(if only we could
forget the masks and all else
and escape this plague)
exchanging language
a small step brought by small girls
(the journey begins)
never would he speak
now he speaks: “You’re next, Ruby”
quarantine blessing
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