Where I Make
Where I Make
When the weekend comes, this is where I make,
With camping gear, canoeing on the lake,
Dipping the paddle as I contemplate.
Between the banks and shores of rocks and trees,
Breathing in fresh air, relaxing and fishing,
Just enjoying nature’s stress therapy.
The sun’s rays glare down to redden my skin,
But the water soothes the burn when I swim
In the birthday suit that I was born in.
Near to day’s end, I erect my shelter
And gather kindling to start a fire
And savour the smell of cooking odours.
With wood burning and the night descending,
I listen to loons laughing and wailing
And the male frogs croaking during mating.
Old Sol appears much larger as it dips
And even bigger at dawn when it lifts.
Inside my sleeping bag to sleep I drift,
And tomorrow will continue my trip.
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