Rewrites

Beautiful Day on Lake Erie

Sunrise finds us camping on the beach.
Seagull alarm clock awakens
heavy eyelids, burning from last night’s campfire.
For breakfast, a mountain pie
toasted and steaming,
marinara and mozzarella.
Feet thrusted into the sand,
watching slow wake ups
and dutiful trips to the water spicket.
New friends at neighboring campsites stop by to
make plans for Rummy 500 after dusk.
The subtle waves beckon to us and our rafts.
But, first we will go to the camp store-
everything that you forgot you needed,
until you did.
The sun kissed seven,
plus our parents.
We’ll sucker our Dad into buying us a kite,
and Mom will pick up some pop tarts.
But we need to see if they sell water shoes.
You see, yesterday my flip flops
were buried in the sand,
and I didn’t notice
for six hours.





The Hammock Swing

Wooden shoulders
attached to the ceiling with a hook
and a net hanging down,
a sailboat- with nothing underneath
but the breeze.
This is where my sister sits in the summer,
tanned legs swinging.
The corner of the porch
seems like the corner of the world.
A place to observe
or read
or talk
on the phone
for hours.
The crisscrossed ropes are a dream catcher,
all bad things blocked
and only the good let through.
For me to look at her
I tilt my head upwards.
We sit,
laugh,
and dream.
Later we’ll argue about when to turn out the light-
She’ll bother me for gas money,
I’ll criticize her friends.
But for now,
"Everything's going to be all right" she teaches me.
She leans back with night sky behind.
"It's us against the world."
She's a quiet piece of furniture-
my guru.