Picnic

The sun shines upon our windshield as we drive down the Blue Ridge, blaring 106.9 as we drive ’round bikers and sight seers toward the top of Grandfather Mountain.

Finally, we get there and we pull over and park. We pull the picnic stuff out of the back, the basket and the food and the sparkling water and the blankets. We take the short hike up through the trees, waving to other hikers, families and couples and elderly people with dogs.

We reach the top. We go out to the edge and look out. People are taking selfies. We stretch out our blanket and set up shop. We talk about the day, of work and worries, of small celebrations. We eat every last morsel and drink every drop, then we pack up and go home.

The view is just as lovely going down. It’s not about the journey or even the destination, but the time together. You gotta redeem the time while you can, cuz it’s fleeting. That’s for sure.

In the meantime, we’re happy just being us.

To Be Yours

It’s late

Our breaths

are quick and excited

the warm blood of life

pumps swiftly through

our veins.

 

We’re laughing

with a bottle of barrel-aged Sauvignon Blanc in hand

There’re reruns playing on TV

It’s Thursday, nothing exciting about a Thursday, except us.

I kiss you with my sloppy-drunk smile

You kill me with those emerald eyes

 

I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you,

walking down those stairs at Grand Central Station

The rails were thrumming

and the same ol’ elevator BS was playing’ on the airwaves

Light and sound exited the room

the moment you arrived.

 

So here we are. Cheers to you & us, God

& everyone.

Close the blinds and let’s celebrate

Let’s howl to the moon.

It’s you and me,

today,

forever.

 

I’m so lucky to be yours!