Once again I take a break from my beloved Yerry Hill Road to go to Appel Farm Arts Camp in southern New Jersey. This will be my twenty-fifth summer as resident old fart, head counselor and theater director. So I exchange the rolling wonder of my neighborhood for the flat lands of New Jersey. I bid all who come here a lovely and peaceful summer, and thanks for visiting.
Warm mid-June morn;
Sun shines off green bushes.
Last walk before camp.
New flowers--new pot;
New caretaker of my house.
The old road beckons.
Tall dandelions
Populating my front lawn
Seem to crane their necks.
Fluttering its wings,
Bird settles in the long grass--
Disappears, rises.
How often I've walked,
Transcending the familiar
With my routine mind.
Old lady on porch
Allows sun to caress her;
We smile together.
Pop blooms by the road;
Path of shadows in the woods;
Endless mysteries.
I watch the dark woods
As a friend drives by and waves
Bringing his own light.
Last year a bear came
To say goodbye on my walk;
This year a woodchuck
Warm mid-June morn;
Sun shines off green bushes.
Last walk before camp.
New flowers--new pot;
New caretaker of my house.
The old road beckons.
Tall dandelions
Populating my front lawn
Seem to crane their necks.
Fluttering its wings,
Bird settles in the long grass--
Disappears, rises.
How often I've walked,
Transcending the familiar
With my routine mind.
Old lady on porch
Allows sun to caress her;
We smile together.
Pop blooms by the road;
Path of shadows in the woods;
Endless mysteries.
I watch the dark woods
As a friend drives by and waves
Bringing his own light.
Last year a bear came
To say goodbye on my walk;
This year a woodchuck
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