Dirt

[Wjames]

There was a path at grandma’s camp
that lead down to the lake.
 
In the morning, when the sun was out,
the dew used to wet my feet as I picked blueberries
and gathered kindling.
 
In the afternoon, on summer weekends,
the dog and I would wrestle over a stick in the mud
while the grown-ups played cards on the dock.
 
In the evening, when the sky was clear
and the sauna was hot, the moon would shine
as we ran down the path to jump in the lake.