Until Later, Then

⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Our annual pilgrimage to our far north coast
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀won’t come off this summer, must be postponed
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀indefinitely. Will Quoddy Head suffice
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀for 2020’s trek? I’ve telephoned
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ahead for reservations, close, at most
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a mile inland. Or we could roll the dice,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀just drive to a new suitable paradise
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀on the border west in the RV loaned
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀by friends we’d met on Adrien’s advice.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The children had been set to see St. John’s
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀again, anticipating East Coast Trail’s
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀adventures, Humber fishing, chasing whales . . .
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Such fun! But this virus outbreak’s sacrifice
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀of childhood memories serves less pros than cons.


This entry was posted in sonnet and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Comments welcome!