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
