to get away
was everything,
to live, not
just exist;
a holiday
of circumstance,
vacation in
the mist

the semblance
of reality
in what cannot
be seen —
the picture only
in our heads,
not magazine
or screen

the cold hand
warming to the touch;
the artist’s turn
to render
negotiations
so complete
there’s no choice but
surrender

the rising and
the setting of
a week long
bucket list;
the harmony
that’s two entwined,
vacation in
the mist