THE BEAT

We're hitched and on the road. Traffic is light for a Friday.

The campsite is perfect,

Family adventure awaits. Trailer nestled under trees, Shelter from the summer heat.

Sun goes down,

Wind comes up.

Wake to branches beating. Children stir from their bunks, Are settled with milk,

Go back to sleeping.

Morning thunders in.

The site is soggy.

So are the bunks.

But it’s dry under the awning, Where the mosquitoes buzz. Break out the drinks.

Evening showers, Smouldering fire, Soggy s’mores. Sunday can’t come fast enough. It doesn’t.

Another restless night.

Sunday morning drizzle–should we leave? The sun comes out,

As we pull in the driveway.

There’s always next weekend.