A Song Cannot Show You

Drive the R232

and descend into Donegal

as the sun slowly slides down

over the bay

and to your right

even though you’ve heard Van Morrison sing it sweetly a thousand times

you’re ill prepared

for the late afternoon light

dancing on a sea of purple heather.

This wild mountain thyme

you may have never seen

while you huddled in your house,

your apartment for a year or two,

reading the entire Internet, and filling

the recycling bin full of wine bottles.

You ventured out in full gear for the essentials:

Toothpaste, maybe a board game, some yeast for a sourdough starter.

But if you’re reading this,

you made it through. 

You made it out alive. 

Time to go and do,

live as much as you can before you die. 

Some movies come close but cannot capture the nighttime expanse of the Sonoran Desert or the monstrous winter waves crashing in Waimea Bay.

Virtual reality cannot explain how small the Mona Lisa is in person or how much better Manhattan smells after it rains.

And a song cannot show you how she’ll look in a little, black dress,

how to fall in love,

or gather up

the pieces of a broken heart.

So go

and do. 

Live.