corn field at dusk —

fireflies amidst the tassles

seeking each other

fledgling cardinals —

still wobbly, working out 

this whole flying thing

our moonlit shadows

leading the way as we walk

hand in hand

Our Lady of Sorrows —

a bagpiper in a kilt

gets out of his truck

(for V.P.)

slowing down

as we head into the curves —

midlife birthday party

the cardinal’s bright flight

just inches above the grass —

I forget to breathe

feisty hummingbirds

chasing off a swallowtail —

flying garden fight

the sound of car keys

tossed down on the table —

knowing he’d made it home

my father’s journals —

I think about fallen trees

and the holes they leave

patio umbrella —

cardinals sitting silently

as the rain pours down

heatwave —

even the birds

sound wilted

driving past Newtown —

I try to write the sunset

as the colors dim

we climb the tall dune
to look over Pilgrim Lake —
which blue is on offer?

the shy smiles of girls —
surprise, or recognition...
I smile right back

tall, gone-to-seed grass
sun-brightened, wind-tossed —
my fingers, Earth's comb

unfamiliar bird song —
the first day warm enough
for your sleeveless shirt

every night

the stars a little brighter —

well-burnished love

land in sight again —

the part of the ferry trip

that never gets old

mid-July morning

mushrooms pushing their way up

through the fog

“Look at me, Mommy!”

all day from the next site over

childhood’s soundtrack

songs after the rain —

birds renegotiating

their territory

in the darkness

between sunset and moonrise

we find each other

how hard it is

on a day deep in sunshine

to believe in rain

we discover

at the end of our long drive

the spider that tagged along

We are so grateful to call N. Truro home for a few weeks every year!

We'd love to hear from you... it's easy to call camp and ask them to leave us a note on the camp message board. (They don't mind, truly.) 

That number (good from July 10th through the 20th or so) is 508/ 487-1191, and office hours are pretty much all day with the exception of meal breaks from noon-1pm and again from 6-7pm.

Even if you don't have a chance to send a message our way, we know we can count on you to send warm wishes and healing thoughts... right? And a special thanks to our fabulous neighbors, who are keeping watch on our little house until we get back.

(For a glimpse at previous years' adventures, 

see post-camp posts from 

2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, and 2006.)

butch summer haircut —

even my shadow

seems to smile

bike as time machine —

my friend and I compare

when we last felt free

(for V.S.)

rising with the moon —

names of old friends I forget

to remember

July Fourth fireworks —

we stay home in jammies

to comfort each other

late night walk —

we swing wide to give the skunk

all the room

unsharpened pencil —

we wait for the concussion

to fade

cooler air

slipping in behind the storm —

his apology