Breaking camp

I don't know if I can,

Or should, put words to the

Mud caked camp break

With the wet arsed seat

On an old sawn log and

The smoking its last

Desperate gasp and the

Pools of sodden earth from

The trampling to and fro,

Rain pouring through leaf

Rattling trees and silence,

Silence,

The silence that comes of

A night of rolling storms, of

Wood splitting, fire stoked,

Forest walking nature talking

Calm. Stop.

We are done with camp

Ground, our boots soaked,

Jeans soaked, soul filled

With the waters of a

Heaven that requires nothing

And gives everything anyway.