A summer, long ago
a different sleepover,
out under the stars,
in the Berkshire woods
when summer camp
meant the YMCA,
our own Camp Shepard.
We arrived late,
what a surprise, just
kidding,
my age group , laid out
already at the campsite,
long past dusk, tripping on
the roots
searching for them, looking
in the dark.
Find a spot to roll the
sleeping bag
on the ground, look for
roots,
for rocks underneath, be
careful,
see the sparks of the
campfire
yards off, spiraling upward
toward the white pines above.
Creating strange orange
silhouettes
in the June air, stillness,
Nearer to the overflowing
trash can
than the fire pit, a few of
us stragglers
hunkering down for the night
hopefully not in a bed of
poison ivy.
A sudden rustling nearby,
freeze, quiet!
for the family of skunks
was out for an evening snack;
Lay still in the sleeping
bags boys,
for we dread a mistake,
made more real, urgent
this far from the fire.
----
edited April 7, 2015
Closer to the Fire – v3
(editing version 2)
Camp Shepard
edited July 22, 2012
“Closer to the Fire – v2
September 23, 2006 21:22
“Closer to the Fire”
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. All rights
reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 36,880+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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