Sunday on Horseshoe Lake

With a likeness to the courtyard of the Japanese emperor
Trees looping over our heads. Chipping sparrows and black capped chickadees flying from branch to branch In the song of the midsummer and friendly as domesticated cats.
Who would have thought that a lake in New Jersey could inspire such an imagination
We talk about all the things we will be doing in the coming months, as bikers and joggers fly past us on the gravel path.
There a woman reads on the park bench
Imitating victorian leisure of the 19th century.
Sunday used to remind me of gathering for church
I actually forgot all about it this morning
Only when the chapel bells tolled from afar
did it make my heart slightly miss it
The memories are cherry filled with an
altar boys nostalgic longings.
But we are here, reclining under the shade
Taking in one of the only times we
have as a couple outside our busy workweek.
Dog walkers and boys with their fishing poles so
passionate about what they are doing, they find
it easier to disobey, when their parents call for them.
That's the trance of the outdoors.
It'll do that to anyone who knows it

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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