(To thank our dear nephew, Chris on his opening of the family Camp)
North Country cathedrals of pine and spruce,
Not visited for a rift of darkest time, an unforeseen breech,
Letting sun filter through the fertile canopy,
On this day of Camp re-opening.
Hard work to be done, backbreaking toil cleanses soul,
Clearing fallen trees overcome by harsh and heavy snows,
Precious wood necessary for fire and warmth and survival.
Cutting the tall, matted grass. Taking care to protect nests.
Then, dawn shimmering on the loon lake, fishing in solitude, peace.
Pristine, pungent breezes of freedom cool skin after so, very, long.
With care, he prepares feeders for the hummingbirds arriving soon,
Preparing for life waking, for new life arriving.
Cleaning the revered plank cabin, inviting light and air into every corner,
Cleaning it inside and out, repairing, respecting the tradition of it all,
Making it ready to welcome family back into its nurture, safety, love.
He pauses his solitary work, for a moment, remembering, grieving losses,
As he solemnly recognizes the blessing of all of this, all that it means,