Rainy Monday Camping

 Rain makes a rhythmic ambiance,

pattering on her tent. 

We all snuggle under our blankets,

she and her dog, I and mine.

They are here too,

and I feel I am the only awake.

The wet chill seeps

through my blankets, layers.

My hair perpetually damp,

fingers icy to the touch.

 

This is life, I am alive.

The cold was welcome this morning

refreshing, invigorating, awakening,

but now I am tired,

the chill feels

old, stale, dead.

 

Beckoning me to slip away

to slumber,

to let my mind wander.

 

I am almost ready

for this rain to stop

for it to dry

for the sun to show

their shining face. 

I want to show her

the top of the bluff,

the magical pool,

the amazing canyon.

This rain has us wait

inside the tent.

Scrabbling for warmth,

and surrounded by people,

I feel alone.