slugs thrive, and I’m back in Seattle, except
that here, broccoli, cucumbers, zucchini, and peppers
arrive in waves

and our woodworker-electrician and I tackle the barn renovation
in earnest

still, in a few breaks, I cross the line into Maine
sometimes with my Lady of Children’s Television
leaping rapturously in big surf
and sometimes with the afternoon all to myself
and once with the whole family
only to discover I’ve packed No 4 sunscreen
rather than No 15
(as a serious burns will demonstrate)

in all of this matter of burrows and burrowing
in the earth, in the foliage, at the beach

while fully resolving to keep the wedding simple
my Lady of Parsley and Sage delves deep into planning
what has already become too complicated for my taste
(“what do you mean, you don’t want a potluck?”)
and we meet with an Oversight Committee

in Portsmouth Harbor the family tours a Viking ship
on its way from Iceland to Manhattan
and the following week, a full-size Theodore Tugboat
with rolling eyes and all, as any kid watching PBS could explain

all the while, life itself feels submerged in Limbo
as absconded as our plumbers

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
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