The Last Children of 1960's CYO Day Camp

Response to Prompt #16

The Last Children of 1960’s CYO Day Camp

By Helen Sadler

Once there was a time when

            the hills looked like mountains.

Where climbing up the side of them meant

            grasping at tree roots

            and tugging our way up, our new Keds

            slippery on the dry dirt.

We used to wander the pine woods,

            a crooked trail before bursting

            into a field of daisies, the kind

            of place to make you want to

            fall down on the ground and

            watch the clouds.

We would continue through those

            Ohio woods until we

            found the horse trail down,

            back to our campsite

            stepping over the business

            of horses, and running

            freely at the end, our

            legs threatening to

            betray us by not moving

            as fast as the momentum

                        required.

One June morning, learning where the

            grapevines were, to pull a stem

            and sip the sweet juice,

            the Rocky River calmly sauntering nearby,

            the sky blue and shimmery,

            peeking through the perfectly present trees

            who were wordlessly calling my name.

8/17/16
Inspired by Billy Collins' "The Last Man on Earth"