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.

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