focus on beach time
not the lost stakes, the thunder,
the flat tire hell
not the life critique,
lack of lobster, the car bed
(just the grinning sand)
family
Day Fourteen, Road Trip 2015
first view of ocean
they never want to go back
to snowy Vermont
they find ways to play
after hours of traffic
self-entertained
yet, there are strict rules
just like back home: perfection
unmatched, unwanted
just let them be kids
romp up to their ears in sand
take pleasure in filth
(if only we could
have homes and hearts like her heart
where they’d build castles)
Day Thirteen, Road Trip 2015
Day Twelve, Road Trip 2015
clay covered bodies
splash across a Vermont beach
wreaking love-havoc
one idea spun
across Colorado wheels
makes their dreams come true
the road’s life. managed.
choices and back seat spaces
(why we bought this car)
“we’re not so different.
i can tell you live for them”
(so worth the long drive)
a morning Maine call
beach memories yet to make
vibrant happiness
this is my road trip:
let the journey be better
than its destiny
Day Ten, Road Trip 2015
drive starts with best store
candy store within the store
(we all need fill ups)
green mountain state calls
with back roads and endless views
we make our way home:
where we stand in rain
and talk like it’s been three days
(never mind three years)
while the kids recite
the spinning songs of preschool
that spun us this time
reunion’s beauty
claws at my throat, my heart.
rain can’t renew it
this trip from my dreams:
three years, three thousand miles–
six hearts in one
Day Eight, Road Trip 2015
hanging out at home
girls play, sleep, we do yoga
easy transition
tomorrow? the drive
hubby’s new job starts at home
(i’ll make my way home)
upstate New York home
in the arms of my best friend
childhood relived
driving my mind home
we leave Kentucky for now
(could have been home)
the road takes us home
on all our travels, faces
where we find our hearts
Day Seven, Road Trip 2015
walk across downtown
with my urban planning mom
walking rating: zilch
veggies are heavy
when carrying Kentucky
weight on both shoulders
redemptive moment
on green lake with blue kayaks
(words he’ll never read)
a campfire end
to a summer daydream trip
(only innocence)
full circle i’ve turned
since five years back, her birth year
(my first niece. cousins)
but he won’t see that.
only weakness bearing down
on our bright union
love like this? just once.
with dark swings on late porches
he can’t even touch
but for her bright eyes
the firelit sunset eve
forgiveness follows.






































