A quiet creak in the cabin floor

Trying its hardest to let us sleep

Invites us to watch the light catch the dust in the early morning air

To admire the stillness

Coupled by the trickle of the flowing stream

That that invites us

To close our eyes again

Whispers until they can’t contain themselves

Bring the sizzle of fried eggs

The smell of bacon, wood and sunscreen

Then the unintentional slam of a screen door

Followed by the squeak of our blow-up rafts

As we walk through the woods

Swimsuits under our tshirts and towels on our shoulders

To the watering hole

That glistens on this hot day

Beckoning us

So its cool water can jolt us into feeling even more alive

And to its rope swing

That we hold on to not to jump

But to tell stories

Wet swim suits and air dried hair

We walk back to card games, laughter and a cocktail

BBQ, bug spray, baseball on the radio

Hunting for crawdads

Chased with munchies and marshmallows

Sleeping bags and secrets

Before we brush our teeth with water from water bottles

The crickets and the trickling stream play a lullaby

And we close our eyes again

We return to life tomorrow

Back down that winding road but

How much better would it be if we could exhale

And spend just one more day

At the cabin