Colorado beach
is a stream and campfire
my relaxation
the morning breakdown:
poles, bags, pans, miracle trunk
pack our memories
quick stop for short hike
pass waterfall, aim higher
switchback to our view
it is a fine sight:
family of five, swollen legs
lake steals horizon
five showers, three loads
phone calls, dishes, and errands
aprés camp bed? YES!!
an imagined home
from stuffies, rocks, wildflowers
neither fight nor screen
Colorado lake
full of fish, too cold to swim
sunbather’s beauty
marshmallow dessert
to toast twilight adventures
camping tastes so sweet
“&;
silver blades cut grass
mad dash for registration
test Ukrainian
new face with bright smile
knows his English isn’t great
how will he survive?
miracle trunk packed
in temporary dream car
life’s a rented dream
reservation lost
we take his lucky number
campsite without view
girls venture for joy
find una buena vista
wood-filled arms return
though we lack lake view
the mountaintop appeases
so rocky, this life
that makes our Friday
mow, pack, register, test, camp
obligations, loves
caked in dirt as thick as frosting,
dripping in young-blooded sweat,
hand-carved spears cutting the air,
savage screams of hungry hunters,
sparkling laughter thrown into the wind,
they emerge from the forested fort.
not once in forty-eight hours
have iPodiPadMacBookCellPhone
inundated their young blood
(nor our old blood)
and without a single complaint,
we gather them together so
caked in sticky white clouds of s’mores,
campfire-smoke-ridden clothing and skin,
hot metal spears cutting into the ash,
thrilled screams of sugar highs,
sparkling laughter thrown into the stars,
they emerge from the perfect weekend.
one stretch of road
that all my life
living here
i’ve never seen
how it curves and dips
reveals a view
of peaks and forests
of bicyclists making
their way to their next destination
(here is where the heart is)
of log cabins
and tiny towns
hidden trails
and geocaches
campgrounds tucked in
amongst aspens
and dirt roads
and i am reminded
(do i need a reminder?)
of why i am here,
why we are here
here
here
on this curvy
dipping winding road
that takes us home.
just when we have stars to search for
the clouds cover the sky
a gray-yellow windswept blanket
of cool air that blows
the fire’s ashes into our faces.
it breathes whining into their voices
but isn’t strong enough
to carry me away
on a blanket of puffy nighttime clouds
back to my home
my backbone
my place to be me.
in a mostly futile attempt
they hold their glittery black star papers
under the eerie blue light of
crank-up flashlights,
then shine them anxiously
into the night sky.
a few stars tease us
but not enough to create a constellation
and their rays of light
search the holes in the blanket
for the hope, the possibility
of seeing what we all know is not there.
it isn’t enough to be ten feet from
the door of our tent to the shore of the lake,
to paddle out into the cove side by side
for a miniature version of a date
it isn’t enough to swim with three girls
in ring-around-the-rosy circles into the night,
the campfire’s afterglow and the Milky Way
lighting their way into the warmth of their beds.
it isn’t enough to stay for one summer
because it could never capture our midnight swim,
our skinny-dipped rekindling after a week’s absence,
the fact that we haven’t lived,
we have never lived,
until the deep-down,
sparkling starlit beauty
of this moment in Kentucky.
at times it feels like nothing less
than a gigantic pile of work: the
seven sleeping bags, two tents,
four bags of food, two melting-quickly
coolers, dog leashes, rain flies,
camping chairs, shovel, swim bag,
toiletry bag, overnight bag… it sits in
the dirt as we lethargically carry piece
by piece and load up the two cars.
but with one last look through the
glorious green leaves out onto the
cove (waterfront property for a night),
the girls bobbing up and down in
their life jackets, Daddy with his
fishing pole, Uncle Zak dipping the
oars of the kayak into the smooth water,
i can still feel the tingle of it on my skin,
washing away the exhaustion, the work,
and bathing me in memories that will
build up a gigantic pile of love in my heart.
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