Camping At Six Mile Lake by Brian Burns

The scent of cut cedar

Even better when it burns

Campfire calling for marshmallows

Your fingers soon a mess of tacky and soot

The smoky haze that hangs halfway up trees

Blink of neon green lightning bugs

The cologne of Off on every nape

and wrist and knee

Crawl from darkened nylon nest

to greet a sliver of glowing white crescent

The sweet scent of warm 3am wind

as you walk hand in hand to the vault toilet

The morning swim

Sand clings to skin

So you bathe in it on the beach

brush it off and hike back to your site

Cooler chilled beers with lunch

The pre mixed margarita follows

sipped to the music of bird song

You both crawl into the sun faded tent

Hotter than your passion

and you are skin on skin

Sweat slick and sticky

You want to be lost in this moment

All eager hands and soft lips

But you’re both dreaming

of the swim to follow

Fucking in a tent

At 2 in the afternoon

Middle of July

Humid as a gopher’s armpit

Must be love

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Brian Burns is a prize winning poet based out of Orangeville.

He is active in several local writing groups and enjoys reading at the odd open mic.

IG: @brian.burns.108889