Before us
laid out like favorites on a charcuterie board
are the days of Summer
that sometimes
felt so Minnesota-long
that they could never end.
We must have lied to ourselves
then and blamed it on the heat?
Gone?
The great swims, naps in hammocks,
hard paddle days, heavy packs, surprise fishing honey holes,
surpluses of dry firewood, half hour reprieve from bugs,
moose sighting, loon calls,
bobbers sinking,
the first, last and all the in-between
meals cooked over the fire.
Reading the map wrong.
Reading the map upside down.
The last portage.
Ice cold water.
A shower.
Dinner out.
So we reach for each now and somehow
aren’t disappointed.
©Timothy James Stouffer #elystreetpoet 10122023 All Rights Reserved