Today, or Always

Today.

I looked at the expanse of the lake and I saw you standing

on the southern shore, beckoning over the ice, calling me

to the warmth of another place and another time, a time just past

or just to come, a place where we could make our lives singular,

a home of some sort: a kind of happy thing.

Yesterday.

I wondered what the hell you were thinking,

secreting things away in the old oaks off the highway,

and showing things, to squirrels that weren’t me,

Showing them parts of you I haven’t met yet,

and wonder if I will: a kind of sad thing.

Tomorrow.

We see chemtrails and ticker tape, because nothing

is meant to last, not our bodies at least, but we can

love each other long enough to be on the same side of the lake,

to walk the same path, through the woods, through today and

tomorrow to something beyond: a hopeful thing.

Always.

The future is never here, never now, never north

or south, just distant, and I won’t let distance stop this.

I’m not afraid to climb, swim, cross that ice,

snowshoe, ski, or hike to you, because I know what my

journey is: the destination. You.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: