Night Vision
by Greg Grant
I sit still while the darkness falls,
Waiting for that deep blackblue of justbefore darkness
When sight is hazy, and the body turns up the volume on my ears.
As I wait, I hear the crickets and mosquitoes,
And a big rig on Route 62.
I hear the seconds pounding on my watch,
And I wonder if time is noise.
To meet night on its own terms is to
Step out into a world of quiet maybes
Not known by the sunlight people
Who bring spotlights to the woods to recreate the day since passed.
They kick at the darkness, hoping to make it bleed daylight,
But all they will get are sore feet.
Tonight, I will wait to walk with the starlight people,
Feeling the road ahead with my feet,
Seeing it with my ears.
When the coolness slaps my face I will know I have entered the woods.
I will hear my own footsteps and know that I am alive.
I will lie on my back in the clearing,
And trace figures in the stars like shepherds of old,
Trying to guess each star's private name.
Burning the Last Outhouses
by Greg Grant
Merl made sure that we set the last outhouse upright,
on top.
He strategically stuffed newspaper into
All the important crevices.
"Oh, this baby's gonna go high," he chuckled.
"Gonna singe the trees, this baby is."
He lit the newspapers and we stood back.
"Lookie there, Gary, she's already startin' to go."
The flames sputtered up through some cracks,
Feeling their way over the board edges,
clambering up to the next level.
"Boy, look at her now.
That's one way to get a hot seat,"
Merl said as we stepped back to avoid the heat.
"You can tell by the way they burn
Them's good solid two-by-fours.
Sure don't build them like that any more.
Merl sighed.
"That's the last of 'em, Gary.
They're all gone.
Yessir, that's the last of 'em."
Merl started the tractor
And I climbed up on the hitch.
We drove away,
And the end of an era burned like Rome behind us.
Discovery Camp Nature Hike
by Greg Grant
"Come, let's explore
There's a world to see.
Can anyone tell me
The name of that tree?
It's the tree that we use
To make sasaafrass tea.
It's got three different leaves,
Now, isn't that cool!
No, later today
We will visit the pool.
For now, we're exploring--
Isn't it fun?
Put that stick down!
it's a stick, not a gun.
We don't shoot people here,
Not even in play.b
John, give me the stick.
We dont't do things that way.
Here's a tree on the ground
That's recently died.
Let's open it up
And see what's inside.
Come back here, Stacy--
I know that they're bugs.
They aren't gonna bite you.
No, there aren't any slugs.
You don't have to touch them,
You just have to look.
When this here tree died,
These bugs here, they took
This tree for their home
And nature keeps going--
Yes, Tom, it's a plane,
But as I was showing--
Yes, I hear the plane.
Well, it could be a Boeing.
Oh. Your dad is a pilot?
Well, isn't that neat.
Did you ever fly with him
In the pilot's seat?
But as I was saying
how sometimes that life--
Yes, Jan, I see her.
She's the caretaker's wife.
No, I don't know exactly
What she's doing out here.
No, don't yell her name,
There are animals near.
We'll scare them away
If we give her a cheer.
Oh, darn it, where was I?
Oh, life comes from death
In the cycle of nature--
Yeah, what is it, Beth?
But you went after lunch!
I suppose if you must,
But hurry on back.
Say, have we discussed
the way to tell weather
By watching the sky,
Why sometimes it's wet
And sometimes it's dry?
The wispy clouds there
Are often called cirrhus.
They mean it's dry now,
But that rain is right near us,
Late today or tomorrow
Or the day after that
It'll rain for a while--
Hey, give me my hat!
No, I don;t know just why,
I just know that it does.
Ask Bill the Naturalist.
I don't know. Just because.
Well, look, here we are.
We're back at the tents.
Now, wasn't that walk
An hour well spent?
Now it's time for some crafts,
And if you behave
We'll do some neat things
With those leaves that you saved.
Camp Wanake