My first trip to camp during the hot May weather inspired this acrostic poem.
BRANCH LAKE
Beautiful sunsets cast their rays across shimmering ripples.
Restful, relaxing, rejuvenating.
An overgrown path leading to the pond of the lilies and the ambitious beaver's lodge.
Nodding off on the hammock, swinging gently reading tales of long ago.
Canoeing to the mystical island where, in the minds of children, (and sometimes adults) magical things happen.
Happy hour on the back deck - laughter, reminiscing, family, story telling, friends, fun.
Loons peaceful calls lull me to sleep at night.
A serene sail in the summer breeze.
Kitchen is a place for a summer breakfast of bacon, eggs, home-fries and fresh perked coffee.
Exactly twenty-one more days from now!
Great acrostic! I can really tell how much this place means to you. Your words are so descriptive, and I can imagine losing myself in such a relaxing place. Make room in your suitcase for me:)
ReplyDeleteYou described it so well, especially the island where "Old Paint" once lived and indians hid behind every rock.
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