By Amy Ludwig VanDerwater
–
We lie in sleeping bags
wearing woven bracelets
on our ankles
spilling giggles
into cabin air.
Our jokes
swirl with secrets
told by long-ago campers
and our words
float warm and spicy
like cinnamon
from bunk to bunk
year to year.
We have new batteries
in our flashlights
marshmallow goo
in our hair
and our hearts are
carved with music
of paddles
dipping in water
horse hooves
trotting on dry dirt
a dinner bell
calling us
for tacos and grace.
