The Retreat

Memories come strong,
burned into the ground,
as much a part of this place
as the permanent fire pit.

Skirting the mud
and puddles of spring
rains, stretching my stride
to match his steps
in the soft ground.

Summer weekends
on the water,
nights around campfires
with hot dogs
and marshmallows.

Autumn clean ups,
piles of leaves and
burning underbrush.

Winter solitude,
others avoiding the
chill winds coming
off the lake. Burning
dead wood collected
off the land, bundled
against the early nights.

Smoke swirls lazily
from the fire,
capturing every season
before and promises
of those to come.

Written for The Mag photo prompt and the Poetic Bloomings ‘burn’ prompt.

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12 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

12 responses to “The Retreat

  1. really strong opening stanza mark….memories do hold that permanent place…and love how you then expand them in the rest of the piece…touching each season then pointing forward to the future…

  2. Helen

    Incredibly beautiful … I floated through each line.

  3. Beautiful…its like a painting.

  4. I like how you gave each season a specific image or memory ~ Some memories do stay with us ~

    http://everydayamazin.blogspot.ca/2012/06/tree.html

  5. I love the seasons of the natural elements in your poem that you build your memories around. Your vignettes are so peacefully beautiful. Thank you Mark for sharing these reflections. =D

  6. The joys of camping! Lovely poem, Mark, to a difficult prompt.

  7. Lovely write. You captured my soul and had me at that camp-fire with you. Loved the experience through your painted words!

  8. Beautiful poem. Memories are so powerful!!
    They definitely leave their mark.
    Hugs
    SueAnn

  9. I love this! I can just picture each season as it comes around,the years as they pass. I think my favorite image is:

    “stretching my stride
    to match his steps
    in the soft ground.”

    How special the memories of our youth 🙂

  10. Memories – burned into the ground. We all have those…

  11. A really fine poem. It has strength and subtlety.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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