poetry friday

     

 

On Sunday, we are heading up to the North Shore of Lake Superior for a few days of camping.  We love camping along the Cascade River, cooking up chocolate-chip-pecan pancakes for breakfast, lounging  on beaches of wave-smoothed stones, gazing out at the foreverness of the great lake, hiking up to grand vistas on the Superior Hiking Trail, reading under the starlight around the campfire, and drifting to sleep in one big tent listening to the sounds of wind  shushing through millions of leaves and water gushing over falls and rapids.    

Here’s a poem by another nature lover, with thoughts on being a tree…    

Open House
by Aileen Fisher    

If I were a tree
I’d want to see
a bird with a song
on a branch of me.    

I’d want a quick
little squirrel to run
up and down
and around, for fun.    

 

I’d want the cub
of a bear to call,
and a porcupine, big,
and a tree toad, small.    

I’d want a katydid
out of sight
on one of my leaves
to sing at night.    

And down by my roots
I’d want a mouse
with six little mouselings
in her house.   

(photo of bear cub by Bob Jagendorf on Flickr)