maple reds and golds painted by nature at my feet, too beautiful and sacred to step on
it’s all about colours isn’t it?
oaks and maples, pines and birches...friends and family
saw a pine tree that had fallen over
mourned it’s death far greater than for most people
sat and meditated on its life
then picking up deadwood--breaking it up crack sound like a baseball bat
when it got dark, moon peeking through the naked branches
that reached out for love and found nothing but coldness
on this gloriously beautifully resplendent cold night that warmed the heart
at the campfire we all stared at for hours upon end
and threw pieces of wood into like some sort of religious sacrifice
later, I went into the grocery store with my black knit hat smelling like smoke
my blue-green flannel shirt and gray hoodie smelling like smoke
my pants smelling like smoke…
I didn’t care -- I was happy
came back and most of the gang had retreated to their sleeping bags
me and those still up ate some candy bars and potato chips
swapping old war stories, old lies, new lies
put out the fire and retreated the small thin tent I had
the cold soon burrowed into my bones and made it its home there
no amount of coffee in the morning could warm me up for hours
I didn’t care -- I was happy
