Voices in the Trees

A poem.

Because . . .

Each summer, since the dawn of time,

We’d pack our kids and dogs and gear

With plans to spend a week, sublime

And frolic with the bears and deer.

For camping was our family ‘thing’,

Anticipated through the year,

And, oh, what praises they would sing

When finally, the time was here.

We parents’d sit beside the fire

And eat and laugh and shoot the breeze,

While younger legs who’d never tire

Would charge together through the trees.

With shouts and laughter as they ran,

Or giggles, hopefully suppressed.

‘Hide and Seek’ and ‘Kick the Can’

And ‘Find the Flag’ and all the rest.

When daylight waned, called back to camp

To spend a moment round the flames.

And crown the glowing, happy champs,

And plan for the tomorrow games.

What fun to hear those voices shout,

And watch their progress through the trees.

To see them scurrying about

On fleetest feet; or hands and knees.

Time’s gone by. It’s what it does.

And still we’re camping in the trees.

But something’s missing now, because

There’s silence floating on the breeze.

We parent’s camp, as we’ve always done,

With tales to tell and wood to hew,

But in the trees, there is no one,

No voices yelling, “I’ve found you!”

We tell ourselves it’s peaceful, true,

As restful as someone could wish,

We do the things we want to do,

Like eat and nap and swim and fish.

At night, we stare into the flames

And talk about the times long past.

When woods would ring with noisy games

And summer days forever last.

But now our kids are raising theirs.

And time’s a thing that’s hard to find,

And spending days with deer and bear’s

A priority that’s far behind.

Oh, what I’d give for one more day,

And woods that echoed with the noise,

When games would pass the time away,

When simple fun brought endless joy.