Soft pineland sounds awaken life
Fog lifts from shallow lakes
Soon golden campfires crackle bright
As sleepy campers wake
A cup of hearty coffee boiled
On smoky flames of fire
With pristine water from a well -
A breakfast to desire
Potatoes soften as they bake
In ashes of night embers
Robust among the morsels gleaned
from Everglades remembered
A cardinal’s bright orange coat
Stands out among the green
Of palm and scrub oak covered ground
He hopes small crumbs to glean
The sky quite blue this early morn
Slash pines soar tall and slim
As if still reaching night’s bold stars
Now shrouded by day’s whim
There’s something to a campground hearth
Warming coarse crusts of bread
Well noted by small woodland friends
Renews the quick and dead
When I’m too old to build a fire
Or gather twigs and leaves
Or rest on canvas cots when tired
Take me to heaven’s eaves
Soft pineland sounds awaken life
Fog lifts from shallow lakes
Soon golden campfires crackle bright
As sleepy campers wake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem