scraps of a rambling day

under a selfie sky

I want to take all the teen boys
away with me on campouts
to a hushed shady space where
cell signals don’t reach but
a creek chimes over stones
behind the site into a 
mirrored lake reflecting
a selfie sky. can 
you please build a fire?
then watch him and two 
friends puzzle it out
smoke choking their
laughs, tiny arguments,
the dashing about, the 
crumbling attempts, the 
quiet one yelling, 
“find me some smaller
sticks!” while he peels 
pine curls into the baby
flame. Do you think there’s
any trout big enough to
eat over there? I ponder  
over my reading glasses
to another handful,
then watch them unfurl
themselves in murmurs,
fish stories rising in crescendo,
checking rods, foraging
for hotdogs and nightcrawlers
in the cooler, heading off
down the path 
without much, only
tackle box 
slides
bug spray
scraps of
a rambling day
shoved into
shorts pockets -- 
a cardinal
calls out her
notification.

Day 40 of #100DayChallenge. Today’s word, “crumble” was provided to me by my friend and fellow writer, Erin McGrane. Thank you Erin! <3

I mulled over the ideas of empires crumbling and the song by “I Fall to Pieces” and the Crumbl Cookie phenomenon, but ended up writing this poem. Originally it didn’t even have the word “crumble” in it but I went back and edited it and it found its way in.

I suppose I was thinking about how teens (especially boys) are struggling with their attachment to devices, with so many suicides and mental health problems lately.

And it’s camping season, and how a dose nature helps so much, in particular connecting to the land. So I guess this could also be a poem about raising chickens or playing in the garden, but I love camping

Here’s the sound of a Northern Cardinal’s song and call. They are in our yard a lot because I fill our feeders with sunflower seeds.

Do you like to bird watch? Camp? How do you connect to the land?