Thirty Sixth Anniverary
streaks of jet plane residue linger in the morning sky
I wonder if they were racing home or to work? I say.
My husband leans into me.
Hopefully home, he tells me.
The Ozarks hold us in place, as if we are willing captives.
We could go down to the lake, I suggest.
I have everything I need right here, my husband says.
We lean in a bit tighter. I savor this unhurried day.
Evergreen soldiers stand guard on the sides of our bench.
Arkansas shares herself in appreciation of our loyalty.
We travel here about every five years.
Silence envelops us in a giant loving hug.
Forty years, my husband says, taking my hand.
Thirty six, I correct him. Thinking of in sickness and health.
I am counting dating, he says. That was fun too!
Man. I had not even thought of that!
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