The campsite.

The campsite.

I pitched the tent in darkness

Rain sliding down my neck,

Slipping on the wet grass

Fumbling for pegs and hammer

Torch succumbing

To bad weather.

The sky clearing

All but very slowly

Revealing a gallery of the spectacular.

I stood

With my child

An arm around her shoulder

And wondered at the beauty

To which we were privy

How different things looked

In the country

Washed clean of city dirt

Everything seemed to glow

We saw it as brand new

As the ancients had.

The magic of it

Stardust billowing out forever

There would be no exploring

Not then

It was late

The night was old

And the new day was waiting

In the wings

Ready to begin.

Sleep was a tall order

The excitement ran so high

Little girls bursting to ask why

The sky looked bigger

In the country

The stars shone brighter

The moon looked close enough to touch

And the smell of rain

Was so richly spiced with jasmine,

The fruits of summer

Floating on the breeze.

Questions would have to wait

Until the sun rose

And the day dawned

With the sound of people

Laughing and swapping names

As they prepared breakfast

Bacon sizzling in a pan

Freshly brewed coffee bubbling

And a bunch of children

Still dressed in sleep

Meeting someone

For the first time

Though at first a stranger

Perhaps a friend for life.