Campers

 Campers

Tiny thing, little being cricket, so mundane

But where two become a thousand
Music fills the canyon, “We are here,
We are here!” for territory, hunger and love
The crickets sing—
And from darkness as we breathe to
The outer edge of heaven, how many beings
Breathe with us, how many stars
Burn ’round us–

Far from the all-seeing god of church
Far from the sound of gunshots in town
As the last sparks rise like little stars
About our campfire, I know you here
I want you near, saying
Yes, Yes, We are here, my love.

Misting waterfall, redwoods trees
Did you walk with me through these
The coral and blue summer-deep dawn
New mountains lifting old seas, here
A billion and two stars moving above
A thousand crickets singing, just we two–
And I don’t even like camping, seriously
I hate it– oh what a man won’t do for love.

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