one last lunch break stop
at the last Pony Express
history to chew
five thousand miles
sixteen states, three Great Lakes,
one foreign province
home to our daddy
waiting with open arms, love
and Denver’s sunshine
weather
Day Twenty-Three, Road Trip 2015
fit in a beach lunch
before Midwest rain torrents
that opened to blue
no fast food today
peanut butter for swim time
best mom bargain yet
ten more car hours
we’ll sleep at home tomorrow
in our no-lake state
but we’ll have daddy
better than any beach day
Iowa, Maine… home
Day Twenty-Two, Road Trip 2015
two days, three Great Lakes
city view transfers to beach
(they’re tired of pics)
look how amazing!
i shout to their grumbling
freshwater ocean!
reluctance wavers
as they find rocks and small waves
accept magnitude
(this after lunch fight
refusing peanut butter
drive-thru battle won)
Illinois takes us
twelve hours past the border
at Wendy’s, give in
they live for water
cause it’s all about the pool
on the long ride home
Day Twenty-One, Road Trip 2015
all ages love boats,
skyline tower views, no waves,
island tree climbing
parks make cities nice
waterfront, shady, crowd free
not these skyscrapers
multicolored ride
subway, tunnel underground
(to hide from winter)
what about fresh air?
facing the snowy cold day?
not in Toronto
for now, sun shines through
we see commerce’s belly
windows heaven down
it’s hard to picture
winter’s isolating freeze
(even fruit hides here)
that’s what it’s like now
just before our trek back home
(last time i’ll see her)
in tunnels, hiding
just like friendships wax and wane
waiting to come back
Day Twenty, Road Trip 2015
New York left behind
tears in my throat once again
goodbye hilly farms
off to Canada
tourists, crazy drivers
(no speeding tickets?)
traffic jam entrance
into tall tower city
and strange busker fest
no one greets us, ‘eh’
just my friend, daughter’s namesake
waiting with a meal
i miss the silence
the small waves of Finger Lakes
coaxing me to sleep
sigh… the road takes us
through ups and downs, silence, crowds…
as i’ve asked it to
Day Nineteen, Road Trip 2015
chilled out lake beach day
Denver’s blue skies followed us
a day to ourselves
camp cookouts, sailboats
gentle hum of mini waves
not a soul in sight
only one thing gone:
his arms, his love around us
(at home he awaits)
peace comes in sparkles
small sun rays dipped in forests
shining through the dark
Day Thirteen, Road Trip 2015
a moment of risk
on this never ending trip
is what makes this pic
kids brimming with grins
now i sit in silent car
grateful for this time
i watch my uncle
hands in tremors–sixty-five
granddaughter in tow
age recycles us
into all we wanted here–
just a yes, a yes
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 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.
Step Write Up 