“school camp narrative”

We boarded the bus at morning’s first light,  
Backpacks abulge and hearts feather-bright—  
The trees whirred past, a whispering green,  
As we sped toward adventure, away from routine.  

The cabins were crooked, their roofs mossy brown,  
Windows aglitter, with bunks all around.  
We picked who would sleep where; the air fizzed with noise,  
Girls whispering secrets, the laughter of boys.  

Our days braided minutes with sunlight and mud—  
Bare feet on the footbridge, our sneakers spattered with crud.  
Canoes kissed the water; the oar dipped in glass,  
And dragonflies waltzed in our ebbing wake’s path.  

At night, by the campfire, we volleyed out tales—  
Of haunted old bathhouses, moans in the trails.  
We roasted marshmallows—one stuck in my hair!  
Our counselor, Miss Jenny, played truth or dare.  

In the thicket we learned to read knots and stars,  
Mapped trails with compasses, charted how far  
A friendship can carry—half lost in the wood—  
‘Til we turned and discovered we all understood.  

The week blurred and faded, a watercolor stream  
Of wild games and night songs and big-planned ice cream.  
We rode home exhausted, hearts swollen and damp,  
Forever marked by the glow of our school’s magic camp.

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