Camping

Morning mayhem. The tent’s buffeting

like a mountain lion. Truer than words, it rumbles.  And up

in the sky a huge grey brushstroke stands with light behind.

Today has begun.

Andrew’s asleep and dreaming, snoring,

but smiling. He stirs; begins to dream awake another few hours,

reaching for essences dancing with clay.

Hungry for magic, a boy.