Sunday, August 24, 2014

Camping in a Tent




Me and my parents, and the
          dog, not the cat,
Even my big sister,
          can you imagine that?
We’re off to go a-camping,
          camping in a tent!

Roaming endless forest
          roads of endless dust,
Dodging hell-bent log trucks
          hell-bound they be or bust,
We hope to go a-camping,
          camping in a tent!

Faces blasted in the wind,
          me and Lady, not the cat.
Wind up the window, quick!
          another hell-bent truck attack.
We are long from camping,
          camping in a tent!

The trees give way to pastures
          green up to the sky,
Cattle guards give teeth a-rattle,
          cattle stare you in the eye.
They’ll never go a-camping,
          camping in a tent.

At the farther edge of nowhere,
          homestead cabin, tumbled down,
Its walls of sod all crumbled
          its hand pump rusted brown,
Folks here left off camping,
          camping in a tent.

We stop, before the plunge, a vista
          lying before us,
Across the miles shines a lake!
          across a million miles of forest.
We’ll starve before a-camping,
          camping in a tent.


“The moss grows thickest on the northern side,
          a mark to guide if you’re misplaced.”
Says I, “Thanks, Dad”, and Lady whimpers,
          we’ll end up vanished without a trace.
Worse! We’ll end up camping,
          camping in a tent.

The sun slumps down to blind us,
          forest again hems us inny
If ever I live to see another tree,
          one tree it’ll be too many.
We’ll die there a-camping,
          camping in a tent.

Wait! What is that sparkling like a diamond
          in the pines? There is another! 
The Lake!! The Lake!! The Lake!! The Lake!!
          How much longer? Are we there yet?
We’re going to go a-camping!
          Camping in a tent!



          by Ken Paxton, Aug. 2014



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