Thursday, June 07, 2007

A Day In Algonquin

Mist in the morning, pours from the lake.
Sunshine sparkles ..There's breakfast to make
smelling coffee
and morning
Choosing journeys to take.

Tarps rolled, tents dried,
floating on glass.
Tiny paddle whirlpools,
moving slowly past.
And around the next bend,
the perfect site at last.

The packs are full
Canoes and sighs.
The path wears on,
The paddles are dry.
Exhaustion and mosquitoes
A natural high!

Evening falls
The stars flicker bright.
The crackling fire
Is our warmth and our light.
In my cosy cocoon
I smile, through the night.

Tom Yates
June 23, 2001

3 comments:

Tom Yates said...

Just testing comments
Tom

Anonymous said...

Wow. Excellent poem. Captures everything.

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