In the Wake
Sun in my eyes, birds in the fir,
Dew on the grass as, slowly, I stir.
Sky overcast, or cloudless and clear;
I won't complain, I'm free of all fear.
A day on the beach or a hike in the wood,
No one will say what I do or I should.
Swim down the river, or maybe canoe,
Possibilities endless away from the new.
Sit in the shade, or under the sun,
Skin turns to tan, or maybe red burn.
Bluebirds so bright, cardinals, too,
Don't want to go home for a week or two.
Food black and burned over the fire,
Fruit so much sweeter than smoky desire.
Smoldering flames and gas stoves turned down low,
Fish and oatmeal--as good as meals go.
Beautiful sunsets unmatched by TV,
Fireflies appear with the stars in the sky.
Bugs serenade; fish jump in the lake,
Another day gone in God's wondrous wake.
Stones in my back, and roots in my feet,
It's hard to imagine that I'll get to sleep.
Think back on the day and then wonder away:
"Why sit at a desk, why sleep in a bed?
I'd rather a campsite and small tent, instead."
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