You pack us a picnic

the basket is the classic wicker kind that opens

under the handle with lids that open conveniently on either side

and with a blanket folded neatly on top.

It takes the two of us to lay it down with one fluff, pull and swoop

under the shade of the big old oak tree

overlooking a perfect September sun

that now shines on the stripe of low tide in the river.

We lay and look up at the spaces between leaves

like puzzle pieces of blue and green

the tree simultaneously blocking out the sun

but let’s us admire the blue sky above.

We are held in the safety of the old oaks branches,

barefoot with legs in the air

stretching and reaching

then laying back down

into your embrace

that has become my one true home.

After a while you flip a poetry books pages

and say “tell me when”.

You land on a poem about listening

and I lay back and listen and think,

“How fitting for me”

I am always trying to better myself—

even as we picnic and relax.

You take out the perfect scoops of cantelope

from your Mom’s friends garden

that we take in one by one by one

with those little wooden toothpicks.

The pasta salad you made with more garden

fresh veggies

cukes and tomatoes—summer in my mouth

and feta cheese.

This is My Heaven

and how perfect to get to spend this Sunday
dedicated to loving you!

Thank you making it feel like Etta James’ song

came to life.

Thank you for being my Happily Ever After

”At Last”!

This is not a song I know,

but a poem for you from me

Happy Anniversary!!