by Richard L. Provencher
1/11/2011 / Poetry
During a campfire holiday interval of sun, wind and rain, we are introduced to a steamy moisture from our tree-lined shore where a bouquet of scent morphs into pungency, its mixture of kelp and fishy leftovers include crumbled clam shells, hulls from crabs, decorated with sharpened driftwood tidbits treating our feet to a smorgasbord of pain. Much later in the safety of a proper roof, warm bath, and escape from mosquitoes, we dwell on memories.
Richard L. Provencher
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