It’s completely grey on the outside
The weathered covered bridge
I briefly stand tranquil in its center
Silent while absorbing water melodies
Floating through skinny gaps
Through rough-hewn floorboards
Vibrating under muddy boots
This shadowy space
Sun streams dance
Patient wanderer wrapped wooly thick and warm
The day is coming when the weight will be lifted
Your extra burden will be eased in just a minute
The buzz will terrify but the outcome’s the coolest
That’s cool “amazing” as well as cool “nearly naked”
They’ll whisk the plunder away to weave wonderful
Warmth and style and blankets and sweaters and
Wonder as your full fluffiness is memorialized
They were everywhere that cloudy evening
Gasping dusk beauty in every direction
Straight up vertical geyser sprays
Interspersed with barnacle covered
Dripping wet tails gracefully curved
Before the perfect Greg Louganis dive
Sucking a churning watery sink hole
Disappearing black with random white spots
Nature’s quiet clear reminder that even
Quintessential beauty is blemished
The weather is perfectly spring, finally warm in yellow and pink,
Combined with Friday and it’s a traffic jam and fender bender
Festival with turtle slow lines of window open cars slowly inching.
Daffodils and cherry blossoms in bright sun apparently impair driving.
I turned from the office in plenty of time for my morning appointment
Onto the highway with one clear mile before hitting multiples of brake light
Red and a snaking line of impatience and heat and loud music and lip-syncing.
My creeping minutes were spent recalculating likely late arrival times.
At the 20-minute mark I made the call I won’t be there today please meet
Without me I’ll get the story later. “Thank you” with fire truck flashing lights
In sight. Up the hill slowly I inched past the crunched grey Prius, taking my
Rubber necking turn then speeding for an unplanned Smoothie King lunch.
The afternoon was summer hot with small breezes and puffy pollen clouds.
My last meeting was at 4:15 but I was early and settled in to relax and wait.
I waited. And waited. Those poor people traveling the interstate from Philly
With the beach bound in mass-exodus in this first spring beautiful weekend.
Triple travel time clocked but cheerful smiles disembarked and greeted me
Despite their time in slow moving lines of finger tapped steering wheels.
“Take your time” I said “enjoy your visit” I suggested and savored the reminder
Of the “empty boats” wisdom story by these blithe good-natured travelers.
Who knew that a gondola ride was my heart’s desire? The day trip to Venice was completely unplanned. Our Florence guide was adamant we must take the 2 hour train ride to experience the unique and beautiful and watery. His advice was good. I was transfixed the second I stepped out of the station and took in the Grand Canal. On the crowded water taxi my singular thought crystalized. My obsession became a perfect glide with a handsome young gondolier wearing the classic striped shirt and jaunty straw hat with the voice of Perry Como crooning Italian love songs while we held hands under a scratchy wool blanket. No busy tourist corner would do. No scruffy wool capped gondolier chomping cigar stub in shabby shirt stretched across his bulging belly for me. Mine would be a solo practitioner tucked in the corner of a lovely square with uneven stone steps down to his boat. We crossed scenic bridges with flowered draped window boxes scouring the corners for my perfect pilot. Was he really illuminated by a single beam of light in the center of a brick square? Waiting for me?
Perfection. A plastered grin from ear to ear was my entire face. An unknown dream come true gliding among glorious teal doors and wrought iron rails and shabby balconies with t-shirts drying. The lilting croon danced across the water. Who knew a gondola ride was my heart’s desire?
The bridge rumbled loud above our heads
As we scoured rocky Maine tidepools
Seeking starfish amidst the copious golden kelp
Flipping stones, scaling boulders, puddle jumping
Searching for life signs beneath clinging shells
Slip-sliding our way nearer the churning sea
Mist not rain dampened our slickers and
Fogged my glasses, wiping away drops while
Seeking the five pointed cherished prize
A champion photo op of the highest degree
All the time knowing while precariously climbing
The full emersion exploration is our actual joy
Sun bleached skeleton trees scream for veiling green
Stark light sears bright cutting razor sharp slices
A warm, inviting mirage deceives icy raw skin
As brisk winds pour winter temperatures into spring
A roaring March lion lingers long and relentless
Early March’s symbol may retreat some day. Soon. Please.