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