The smeared orange sky looks down at us
Trying to hold up the setting sun
The scorched smell of charcoal in the gray air tickles
My nose as my stomach noisily rolls over in the bed of my appetite
The foggy water gradually lets go of our bodies as
We tiredly climb out of the dark green depth
The yawning sun blankets our damp backs
Like a warm towel right out of the dryer
The thumping of tiny feet run along creaky wooden boards
As boats gently knock on the bruised back of the boatshed
The distant sizzling of the tired grill makes us run faster up steep hills
As freshly cut grass wraps our feet in green straw
The children’s echoed giggles jump on a soft breeze
As I hear the retreating lake brush the sand
And I just smile to myself knowingly
That this is exactly where I want to be
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