The drive north on Route 17
New Jersey to Eastern Lake Huron
took forever
or so it seemed to a child
sitting on the backseat floor
drawing sports cars,
counting cows,
playing I spy to speed up time.

The summers at Port Elgin’s beach
- seagulls and cotton candy and bagpipes
lazy days and Bingo nights -
were over in an instant
cooler evenings foreshadowing
the inevitable return home
to start a new school year
evenings serenaded
by late-summer crickets.

And then these too were gone.

An hour at coffee
a month-long affair
my years on the road
a lifetime of love and loss.
Could these all be the same?
We’re briefly on Earth
human sparks planting gardens and fire
darting through life as we
search for salvation
too soon invited to leave