Just one short portage and the park is ours,
Canoe laden down for a one week stay.
At the site in just a matter of hours.
It has been too long since we got away.
The next morning calm, with a touch of fog.
Sitting on the bank, the sunshine a plus.
Deep croaks emitted by an old bullfrog
Echoing back from the cliff behind us.
Five-Lined Skinks running across the rock,
Endangered now, once so commonplace.
Yodeling Loons with their morning pep talk.
Chipmunks scurrying at a nutty pace.
Pour-over coffee perfuming the camp,
The sizzle of bacon beckoning all.
Maybe we'll paddle once it's not so damp
Or just laze around until it's nightfall.
And when the day dims and darkness is king
We'll look up to see that old Milky Way,
Shooting stars, and the moon on it's upswing,
Preparing the skies for a brand new day.
The fireflies flitting freely in the bush.
Raccoon eyes reflected by the campfire.
The occasional mosquito ambush.
That's when you know it's time to retire.
And tomorrow perhaps, when we arise,
We'll launch the canoes, go out and explore.
Pulling back the veil on natures disguise
Or sit in the tent and let the rain pour.
Copyright © P L Ritz | Year Posted 2017
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