Sunrise At The Camp
B
Barry Middleton
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The sun ignited the bayou mist,
and the forest called my name,
as I sat beside the crackling fire,
warming my hands on the flame.
A sapsucker drilled on a maple tree,
and a squirrel complained to the fog.
A bullfrog croaked a rumbling note
from his perch on a hollow log.
The mallard's call was my alarm
that said it was time to wake,
to brew the morning coffee pot,
and hurry my way to the lake.
Sunrise at camp was my gratitude,
and forever the time of day
to thank the earth for one more dawn,
and whatever might come my way.
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