Poem Category: Camping

open tent
my eyes split in
the cracks of dawn

lake camping
all the fireflies
of the other side’s

camping
the smells of the forest
mixes with rain

camping
a fallen blue-Gum
bridges the river

camping
these meteor tails
should have a sound

camping
our coffee cups in
a gathering of trees

camp fire
before the dusk falls
to shooting stars

camping
a bee hive
being vocal to our smoke

camping
the owl’s turn to
the hint of a moth

camping
what cicadas don’t know
in the last of their cries