When I hear the word vacation…

So. That first morning
she thinks it’s wonderful –
a snail on the windowsill.
She pokes the closest feeler
and laughs when it’s withdrawn

He raises an eyebraw
sees nothing to write home about
in escargot, and so
pouts his prefernce for cornflakes
and punctuates with a yawn

Later he’s in thrall
to the tumbling diamonds
on the little windowpane
why in ever, he can’t explain
she only knows that she sees
only rain – rain, rain
and more rain, as she sighs
her dismay – why didn’t
they choose instead
that mediterranean cruise

A redone cottage in dordogne ?
Yes, and endless dordogne rain.
Surely a boat would have seen
a chance at better weather –
but it really doesn’t matter
as wherever – or so it seems –
they are never in the same time zone

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