Where I Make
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Where I Make
Come the weekend, this is where I make,
With camping gear, canoeing the lake.
Dipping the paddle as I contemplate.
Between the shores of rocks and trees,
Breathing fresh air, relaxing, and fishing.
Enjoying nature’s stress relief therapy.
The sun glares down to redden my skin;
But water cools the burn when I swim,
Naked as the birthday suit, I was born in.
By day’s end, I build my shelter,
And delight in the sight of an open fire,
And smell of food cooking odour.
With logs crackling and pan sizzling;
I listen to loons laughing and wailing,
And frogs croaking during mating.
Old Sol appears larger as it dips.
And bigger at dawn when it lifts.
With eyelids heavy inside the bag, I drift
And on the morrow will continue my trip.
Copyright © Dennis Spilchuk | Year Posted 2023
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