qarrtsiluni

That we didn’t, after all,
go anywhere that day
hardly matters, looking back.

We discussed it in each other’s arms,
weathervaned the state,
considered lakes, obscure museums,

unknown and nearby towns,
and mind-explored some routes
to be later found, or not,

on the toast-distracted map
unfolded over what
was fast becoming lunch.

Next there were the tasks
we ought to do before
we started out:

the laundry,
email,
something we’d forgot.

All the while the sun,
which always plans ahead,
rolled on its grudging round,

Time’s chariot.
And yet,
we traveled, looking back.

by Susan Donnelly

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