Camping
Trees are swayingBending forward
As the forces of the wind
Grow onward
Roots are lifted up
From deep within
The ground.
Windy weather passes
With our frailness in tact
Then, it's time to reap the harvest
Once discarded
Keeps us warm
Before the fire.
Campers gather round
Making smores and
Singing songs
Wrath was conquered
By the winds
Burned to ashes
In our whims
When we went
Camping.
9-6-09
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