Let's Go Camping

Going Camping

Upon narrow roads, we plodded along,

As I remember our adventures, the conversations now gone.

The planning and direction we wanted to go,

Also came with the cliché, you reap what you sew.

We three brothers upon the road of life,

Once created our miracles without any strife.

We’d clamored and volleyed and skipped along,

The dirt roads of our childhood never separated nor alone.

Into the forests deep, we liked to go searching,

For whatever lay in the words, in the undergrowth lurking.

Maybe a deer or small cat or stray dog,

Upon our investigation, it was only a log.

Laughing we stepped back out onto the lane,

That led from the coal camps with its rumored claims.

There were those who wouldn’t creep into the scary darkness,

But called out their warnings as we ventured on nevertheless.

It was our private journeys away from the house,

Into the forest with campfires that would have to be doused.

Campsite cleared of scrubs at evening’s twilight,

Each told stories, some brought smiles, others soulful fright.

A posted guard who stood by the largest tree,

Was neither of my brothers and certainly not me.

The oldest took the duty of being the night watch,

And stood the post proudly guarding the swatch.

At the end of those roads many years ago,

One could find a treasure, campsites I was often told.

Until you’ve lived it, been there to enjoy the thrills,

There’s nothing like camping in the West Virginia Hills.

By: Dan R. Fowler

For: Astrid