Just a little something ...

I was bored a lot on our camping trip. Yeah, nature is beautiful but after burning through an US Weekly, People and Vanity Fair, this media absorber was pining after the rich campers' flat screens a few spaces down. So, to keep from going insane I grabbed my paper and pen and scribbled this as tree-filtered sun sparkled on my lap.


Campfire secrets,
sticky marshmellows under foot,
tent poles bent on an angry whim.
The trees know.

Clanky pots, sizzling bacon,
fresh coffee in the kettle.
A curmudgeonly camper snickers,
while kids on bicycles pedal hard.

Trespassers change,
weeny roasts long gone,
the sound of crisp voices
replaced by electronics
popping against the black.
The trees know.

Glistening sadness tucked
just behind a blushing meadow.
A chubby squirrel goes covert,
peaking into partially zipped tents.
The birds scatter and screech.
Wildfires rage in distant groves,
valley smog creeps up hillsides
— so close, so thick.

The trees know.