Later than we meant to, we pulled into the campground,

the lights from the guard gate glowing,

bright yellow lines painted on the roadway guiding us.

 

At first we thought no one was there;

then he lifted his sleepy head, chagrined,

and signed us in.

 

Quietly as we could, we crept to space D17,

our usual space having been taken by an earlier arrival.

Right on the lake, just as promised.

 

Pitched our tent in the dark;

peed in the woods – the bathhouse was too far –

unrolled our sleeping bags and crawled in,

faces toward the open flaps.

 

At last.

We were sleeping under the stars again.

 

Gena Williams