I’m not much for composing poetry, in fact, I don’t even know if this qualifies as a poem. It just kind of fell out of my fingers tonight.
Sitting in the creek to stay cool
we laugh and sink in the silt.
Clothes dry quickly as
we kindle a fire, small at first but raging and smoky to
repel mosquitoes later.
The moon rises over the hill and
coyotes yip in serenade of it’s beauty.
Footsteps in the dark awaken us.
Our tent feels inadequate and we peek out
through the zippered flap.
A tall doe peers back before moving
on to drink.
Image credit to http://www.flickr.com/photos/larachris/
This post is part of my participation in MomDot’s PR Blackout week. I’ll be posting about all things “In The Dark.” I hope you’ll also turn inward. To think about your voice. To think about your goals and to pull it all together for a week of unique content. If you do, please share your posts in the linky widget located here.