This poem tells about how I learned to love nature, through my early experience at camp the summer I was five. Five years later my family moved across the street, and those 43 acres became my backyard paradise.
See it for yourself in the photo section.
I first arrived
in the fifth summer
of my life.
As a child I felt
I was somehow
returning
to a place
I once loved well.
It had become
a Day Camp.
A joyous escape
from pavement
to wooded ecstacy.
All that summer,
that sun swollen
childish summer,
I explored
and expanded,
granted a reprieve.
I was already
too old to be five.
Innocence
and tender trust
no longer belonged to me.
This woodland wonderland
became my looking glass.
Childhood was preserved;
wonder returned
to where wonder
was lost.
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Arrival Day
There's a lot
I don't remember now;
the waiting
for that standard yellow schoolbus
that picked me up.
I don't remember
the ride.
I don't remember even
where I lived then.
I do remember
The Turn.
The bus squeezes itself
down a narrow
tree lined tunnel.
It's marked
with a small wooden sign.
"Welcome
to Camp Mohawk".
My memories begin
with that faded sign
and that shaded
rutted road.
The summer schoolbus
would shudder
and jerk to a halt,
releasing its charges
into the summer sunshine
beside the camp headquarters.
The Pavillion.
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Connection
That first day
we were divided
by ages;
my new family
of strangers.
My group was told
to meet in the Lower Field.
We were paired up
and set free.
My companion and I
ventured forth
hand in hand.
she found the Field.
I found Paradise.
*****************************************************************
Summer School
That summer;
that glorious
blossoming summer!
The forest became
my classroom.
The trees and animals
became my friends.
I learned about
Dutch Elm disease,
how to whistle
on acorn caps,
and get free paper
from Birch trees.
I learned that
if you walk carefully,
you can gaze
upon the grazing deer.
If you sit quietly,
the birds will
build their nests
and sing nearby.
I learned how
to walk down
a steep hill sideways,
so you son't slip
on pebbles underfoot.
(You have to go
slower still
in Autumn,
when fallen leaves
make the slope slippery.)
I watched minnows
darting about
in the shallows.
We weren't allowed
to cross the creek
to see larger fish
in the deeper parts.
But we learned to skip stones
and watch the rock
bounce to the far shore,
Wondering
what the big kids meant
by "panty raid".
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Rain Out
Then the tents
were all set up
for the Camp Overnight,
the Bonfire was prepared
for our Weenie-Roast,
and that morning it rained.
We waited
with our bundled
sleeping bags,
water dripping from
the bonfire logs,
for the rays
of the setting sun.
That day,
I learned where West was,
as I searched
for broken clouds
and golden rays.
Clouds and Campouts
don't mix.
We went home
dragging damp blankets
and Summer ended.
No more crafts
with pasta and paint.
No more pinecones,
nature trails,
and scavenger hunts.
No more
splashing to catch
a greased watermelon
in chlorine water
that went
over my head.
*****************************************************************
Autumn
The trees are now displaying
their scarlet flags.
I gather bluejay feathers
and brilliant leaves,
momentos of a promise
to return.
The schoolbus emerged
from the shadowy tunnel
to return me to
my childhood.
I went home
transformed.
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Homecoming
I'm ten now
and have not forgotten
bittersweet memories of
half a lifetime ago.
I remember
the faded sign
and the rutted road.
I've lived with
concrete playgrounds
and scraggy woods.
I've remembered
to walk carefully
but saw no deer.
We finally move
away from sidewalks
and trees in pots.
A real house,
with a forest
right across the street.
At last a chance
to learn again what
I am slowly forgetting.
A certain set of pines,
so proud;
where to find White Birch,
My longing creates a mirage
of the memories I dwell in...
An arch of trees
forming a tunnel...
a faded wooden sign
and a rutted
schoolbus road.
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Manifesting Dreams
My longing
and long dreaming
have deceived me...
and yet it is so.
All I thought was lost
is rediscovered.
But now I'm ten,
and this is my
backyard!
My fabled Wonderland,
my fading Eden,
my adventure reawakened!
No pairing up,
and counselors
forbidding me the stream.
The Nature Trails
walked so long in dreams
are emptied
with the last bus out.
Now September,
when school begins
and Day Camp ends,
the trails are mine to walk.
At four O'Clock
the trees whisper
their invitation.
My sanctuary is restored!
I dive between the trees,
daring myself to get lost,
and finding my way
inevitably
back home.