Spring Break in the North

Great

anticipations

of gelid children spring breaks.

Restless excited nights under the concrete silver banded needle.

Protracted plans and eventual farewells, I love you’s, good-byes, and be carefuls.

Out early beating forlorn drivers and their somnolent weekend abodes.

Six wayfarers and a short sojourn up the legendary highways of time in times childhood eternities

Pending happy tribal meetings with an echoing Pibroch

The land fit for Pibroch trills looms vast under a knife-blue northern sky.

Fast past the Hills Fiefdoms, the Windmill Duchy and the Groundhog Republic

At last, into the breathtaking ethereal Kingdom of the Stone Lion.

Mad dashes from the wagons to claim silent hill M14

No opposition - the land is void of children and childhood frore forts

Feverish digs atop for defensive walls against attacks that never come.

Great tunneling excavations by the large and small warmly bundled Willies.

With crystalline auxiliary crawlways for escape

On the shore big country blue backgrounds with algid white foregrounds press forward.

Icy hissing breezes roll over white wastes while watching skaters skate under a pale portentous antediluvian Lion.

Children’s excited laughter in downhill sled novelties while ghosts haunt the slopes of reflective minds.

This is the land of sleepy happiness and monumental myths.

Sublime.

The final fragrant breakfast in the bustling cacophonous corner restaurant

Sweet p ancake heaps, stolen sausages, and yellow yoke dipped golden rye

One last tour of our fort with its spirals, turrets and tunnels wondering on future occupation

Then goodbyes said, no sadness here for these are not Proustian children.

Car crammed haphazardly and off in rushes to southern cities and dreams of summer campaigns.