Rustic Camp (POEM)
You call me at odd times in the morn in day light.
You beckon me to come in the middle of night.
When things are so silent you stir a restlessness in me.
I am pulled into your warm arms like being swept out to sea.
Wood golden, sunlight, old lodge door calling my name.
I feel the deep pulling toward a place I can’t tame.
Wild and secluded, nature’s gorgeous design.
Hidden just below the mountain timberline.
I sit on this porch and ponder life’s ways,
As I drift in my woodland and drift on for days.
The texture of cedars the scent of the pines,
The colors of autumn’s maples, a medley so fine.
The smell of the fire, the crackle of wood.
I am living a better life than any man should.
The truth of simple living is to appreciate the view.
Opening our eyes and awakening our spirit anew.
This rustic little camp is my special space.
As I curl up in my adirondack chair to escape the rat race.
~ L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer