Yellow burning through blue.
A marching ant
under a magnifying glass.
Sweat soaked and shower ready.
Enjoying every minute;
slapping flies and all.
Half past a long day,
back at camp.
Camera full
Belly empty.
Latter problem soon to be solved.
Jagged peaks burst the balloon as it descends.
One consuming circle of warmth
gives way to a one sided circle of warmth.
Now though,
talking and laughter abound,
and teary eyes change hands with the wind.
One silence at a time and
this circle has burst too.
A solitary remnant,
With hot feet and cool back,
nurses a honey wheat brew
while reflecting on the day.
He converses with the stars:
“Ursa Major!
We saw your son today.
Fat and content,
sitting on his backside
among the Fireweed,
pulling Huckleberries
off of a branch with his lips,
Occasionally glancing our way,
but hardly interested.
Come to think of it,
He looked much like I do now.”
After this one sided conversation
He stares off into the sky
quietly contemplating life, love, and land.
Altogether excited and depressed.
Eventually contemplation
gives way to realization:
no documentary,
no museum,
no planetarium
compares to the live show.
Now the remnant puts the light out
and leaves as well.
It is time to rest for another day
Of marching, sweating, laughing,
and enjoying the live show
Under and around circles of warmth.