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Picnic
by Kay Weeks

You pushed out from shore in one thrust,
The day was dressed in mist,
My sandwiches were soft as skin.

Midway, the sun broke through,
Things glistened,
We ate again.

At day’s end, the water steamed.
A bird came, begging for crusts.
You threw them in.

Actually, we can’t begin
To thank you enough
For that brief lunch.

It was light and quite well served
For what it was:
Cheap novella,
Heart’s diet,
Lover’s lie.










 

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