Crossing To The Kind Poem by Susan Lacovara

He'll be there
In the boatyard
Awaiting my landing
And off loading
From the ferry
That bridges the distance
Between our shared stories

Wearing his boyish grin
Shaded slightly by an old straw hat
I know now my troubles are on vacation

We set up our tailgate picnic
As traveler's will do
Unaware or unconcerned if anyone
Thinks it odd
Uncorking wine and slicing cheeses
Ripping lengths of French bread
To dip into our laughter

He smells of wooded moss and mushrooms
I wear fresh flowers tucked into my hair
He tells me there is good fishing
And points to 'Over there'

I toss a giggle into the sea air
He tosses my overstuffed red bag
Into the bed of his rustic running truck
We count on own luck
To provide a perfect weekend
Of wandering in the same direction

There will be mountain views
Prettier than pictures painted
Riddles of night sounds
Their origins
A mystery to figure out

And stars, such stars
Too many to imagine to count
Quiet friendship to shutter out any sorrow
I may have left at the ferry terminal