Through a hotel glass, brightly.
Bled is a lake with an island in the middle.
In the distance, castles. In the distance, snow.
In the nearness, fishermen.
We will return to the lake, but today we go elsewhere.
Navigating the dangerous woods.
Traversing the dangerous streams.
Our lives are at great risk.
Then woods become villages.
Streams become rivers.
Rivers lead to mountains.
Mountains lead to cows.
And churches dot the tops of mountains.
With a view back to where we started.
There are more of those Roman fire departments up there.
And a shrine, of course.
But we wish to be on that other mountain, over there.
It’s down again, across more treacherous streams.
To river valleys.
To falling rocks.
And then, like idiots, it’s back up.
Up, and up, and up.
Then, suddenly: toboggan!
Which, for safety, we decided not to ride…
Just one more hike down, and we’re back to Bled.
Where nighttime befalls us.
And pork belly befalls us.
And custard befalls us.
Through a hotel glass, darkly.
Bled is thicker than water.