Vacation
Almost there!
The last turn.
Open the windows.
Hear the well-remembered sounds.
The wind, the lake, the foghorn.
How I love the foghorn!
The road narrows,
Trees crowd close and meet overhead.
We’re at the lake once more!
One week each summer
We call this home.
An oasis,
A haven,
Our own “wrinkle in time”.
No plans, no phones,
Walks on the beach,
Fires in the fireplace,
Chats with the owner.
Laughter,
To share with each other.
Private talks and times alone together.
Time to sit still
To just be,
And to know—
That is exactly what we should be doing!
M. Hollenberger 8/90
|
|
