The dew rest gracefully on the
green blades of grass.
As it always does--at 5:15am.
The morning air is crisp and
as we crawl out of our
warm dark haven,
it shocks our lungs.
The tent walls are like sheets,
but, our bed of blankets
shields us from the
blue cold night
and hard forest floor.
Last night we swept away the
mossy brown pineneedles
and years of memories that cushion
our dreams and stumbling falls.
All that remains is the truth,
of our (in)visible feelings.
The
white ice
and timid hesitations are melted away
by our
red emotions.
As we silently dress,
our clothes chill our skin, cold from
being set out the night before.
We can hear the quiet pop
and occasional crack
of the
scarlet embers still
glowing bright in the makeshift fireplace.
It's one of the sounds
we have become accustomed to,
every,
pastel pink morning.
We utter not a word, our locked glances
speak so much louder.
Because you held me all night,
and i felt
safe.
With a glance at our watches
we smile.
The bags we packed last night are waiting.
They are full of all we might need,
and i may have hidden a small surprise
--for you.
You'll find it later when the
yellow sun threatens to scorch
our skin.
Walking quietly, the
blue jays sing us a song.
Once we reach the lake, the sacred silence
is broken, by exclamations on its beauty.
Our anciet, once polished and shined
cherry-wood
canoe waits for us. still looking as beautiful
as the day it was created, with it's worn oars
and our initials carved in the side.
The sun is reaching now,
and kissing us with its
orange morning glow.
As we slowly paddle out to the
deep blue brimming lake
we smile.
Today is ours.
And we will spend it
fishing.
We'll bring home no fish, something no one
else can see.
We'll bring home, a better you and me.
We will bring back
you
and
me.
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