Tomorrow's Serengeti

Someday,

Not any day soon,

We will sit

And talk

Among the hydrangeas

Blossoming

On the veranda,

 

Laughing

Because it will be

Our veranda

And you had

Wanted a balcony instead,

A view for hypothesizing

Kingdoms:

 

Imagined

Valleys and precipices

From which

We might have leaped

Headfirst

Into depthless

Saline pools,

 

Emerging

In sorbet twilight

To taste

Salt-tinged vanilla

On the corners

Of each other’s

Lips

 

Before

Running from the dark

As if it were

Swarming hyenas

With fire in their eyes

And storms in their

Hearts,

 

Footsteps

Pounding like clockwork,

Irreversible and

Immediate, a

Pattern to parallel

Our emblazoned charge

Into the rosebush.

 

But somehow,

Rubbing the dog behind

Its floppy ears and

Calling for the children

In the garden beyond

The veranda, we will find we are

Happier still.