Weekend Trips to the Lake – by Chris Wood
Early morning dew drips from juniper berries
as the sun pushes daylight through rustling trees.
Birds chirp, waking the forest.
Fisherman putter by, trolling motors pulling them to the next hot spot.
Wrapped in a sleeping bag, I sit cross-legged in front of the tent.
Bacon sizzles as I watch
flames dance around the cast iron skillet.
Coffee percolates in the vintage aluminum pot.
As brown liquid bubbles up through the glass knob,
smoky aromas of breakfast and nature fill my senses
until tears spill from my eyes.
Visions of daddy stoking the campfire and
roasting marshmallows play in my mind.
I miss those days.
I miss Daddy.