What I Did on my Summer Vacation

 The season turns, and everyone I meet
seems to ask the same questions: How 

are you, how was your summer, did you 
go anywhere? After the world was made 

in seven days, surely an eighth 
was created for going on holiday. 

As the cruise ship lifted anchor, 
crows flew high over the lookout

and seagulls dove into lagoons 
of impossible blue. I've always 

dreamed of walking into the moss-
lined quiet of ancient temples, 

of dipping my feet into ancient
waters goldened by flower offerings. 

While God rests after the superhuman
labor of making something out of nothing,

the lucky ones among us get to sink into 
the steam of a hot spring in Iceland,  

stargaze from cabins carved out of ice, 
or follow the trail of ramen noodles 

all over Japan. But most of us stay closer—
We take beach chairs and towels and hampers 

to the crowded oceanfront, watch fourth 
of July fireworks from the rooftop of a parking 

garage, eat peaches from the farmer's 
market after hot afternoons power-washing 

the back deck. Promising to read stacks of novels  
at last, we're happy to have finished two and a half.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Package Holiday.