the deer in the park are all bones

and our cabin has two forks

 

grandpa turns almost-ninety-five

 

three of the great grands chase ducks up the hill

and a fourth is always crying

 

at night the late crew

sips bourbon in a circle

 

we cannot see

each other’s faces

 

everyone shares their favorite story

and even still there are names

we don’t use

 

we sad laugh

we talk angry veiled

then jovial remedially

this is not new

 

the topic: turnout

 

how do we keep

tradition alive?

 

in spirit someone says

and it is not the right answer

 

it splits off i amend

 

it spreads a cousin amends

 

an aunt amends let’s joke about something

 

and we joke about the moon rising

as we pack up our chairs