Winter Camp

 

The last sip of lukewarm coffee

Dying fire turns to ember

Woolen cap pulled down tightly

Against winds of December

The leaves have left long ago

Leaving crispy brown carpet

And with the lack of first snow

My passage barely marks it

Pale cold sky veined by bare branch

Lets each breeze follow its will

And midday sun cannot stanch

The coming of winter chill

Monochrome of fall background

A harsh, barren mountain side

Little sound or life around

Save squirrels with nuts to hide

In the lateness of the year

When there is much less to see

People wonder why come here

But it holds its own beauty

The chance to see with distance

This vast mountain and its form

My shelter the resistance

To approaching winter storm

To smell the air crisp and new

Mixed with the scent of wood smoke

Wake to frost instead of dew

A crystallized morning cloak

The blackness of moonless night

Broken by comforting fire

Laughing around campfire light

What more could a heart desire

Comments
5 Responses to “Winter Camp”
  1. meenawalia says:

    So beautiful Brad.You took me through this beautiful journey with your poem

  2. Jim Borden says:

    wonderful poem, Brad, but my heart’s desire would be to be sitting on a beach just watching the never-ending ocean waves!

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