Moats to Sail

Together we are released from death.

Christ beside me.

We can stop the rain. We can leave the tomb. Let us walk together into the sunlight, my love. My loves? Now to pass through the eye of the needle.

Rain like a locomotive barrels through night and day. There are moats to sail and bottled messages to send.

Fall colors stand applauding in two receiving lines as we jaunt northbound towards Muskegon. Aloud I say, “I miss Vermont.” He was joking when he asked if I missed the bears. My wince said, “I wish you wouldn't have said that.”

A nap too long and a stomach ache to pay for it.

After he fell asleep, I pulled apart the heavy, blackout curtains, cracked the window and watched the moon drifting eye to eye above Lake Michigan. Not a sound lifted except the occasional lapping of water against craggy pylons. I pretended that night knew things that the day never would and I carried that illusion safely back to bed.

Warm brown rice with tamari sauce, ginger tea. Leaves the color of buttercups rewriting October terrain.

Rain says, “build the ark” and so we enter, two by two.