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
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
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
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
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
sunrise silent view
collecting glacial water
from my hometown lake
impossible sights
832 steps
made by miracles
spring water fill up
waterfall wonderment walk
distant valley view
lunch at the vineyard
blue as sky midday lake taste
(feast as delicious)
swim in clear waters
girls fearless of bottom plants
wet fun in cool lake
grade school best friends meet
each of us toting three kids
(could have been our life)
but i’ll take this view:
journeys home–here, everywhere
all have a sunrise
met in a drugstore
seventy years of marriage
through three kids, three wars
still earth’s travelers
color-coded pins mark map
slept, lived, camped, drove, flew
she swims every day
he mows the yard and pulls weeds
they tease each other
best of all? they grin
take tragedy, joy in turns
till death do them part
(this is why i drive
take my kids along the road
live long by travel)
small town tire delay
gives us reason for lobster
(just a short Maine walk)
two missed turns later
we find winding New Hampshire
ready for ice cream
fixed reservation
at a camp we’ve never seen
top out my Monday
late night text shocker:
best sleeping bag left in Maine
(adventure goes on)
we find our way back
on lobster walks, ice cream runs
till we feel at home
that’s how the road plays:
missed turns, rushed escape attempts
journeys everywhere
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)
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)
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