Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The Camp (An island of memories anchored by stones my soul knows by heart.)

Lake Hubley from The Camp - photo by Amanda Young

My foot lands on the next stone
and the next.
In this way I walk around the Camp,
an island rimmed with stone
on Hubley Lake’s rocky waters.

Round and round I go

Blue grey water eases in
and out of crevices.
I hear the glop, glop
as it hits rock.
Life breathes in and out
as I walk counter clock-wise
around this home
away from home.

wood burning stove
boat house
all ancient
to an eight-year old’s
sense of time…

and here time has slipped
back to a past
where tiny porcelain dolls
with painted faces and
movable limbs play
in a tiny church.
Here the past is layered
in the scent of wood smoke
and the memories of others.

Round and round I go

I look across rippled waters
see another island. Wonder
who walks its paths.
A whole other world
only a boat ride away.

I continue my rounds.

In the distance, a stretch of beaches
where we catch minnows
as soft sand squishes
between our toes.

Round and round I go

I come to the lookout.
A huge, lichen covered rock
waits for me to climb up
become a part of it
as the wind blows
and the sun
breaks through
drifting clouds…

Round and round…

The Camp lives on
as cousins rebuild
take care
layer in more memories
that by now must be so thick
you can barely move
without being pulled back
to another time.

Round and round it goes…

And perhaps,
beyond the mists
my father
with his brother
cleaning fish

© 2015 Joanne Elliott