Come What May, Camping.

Last two days in April
Thumbed his way
From Hamilton smoke and chimney
To bright breezy beaches
Of Dover.
Tad bit early but
Daffodils were out.
Robins and doves were back.
Looked like a green light.
He boogied south.


Light packing included
Three changes
Wash up stuff
Light pop-up tent
Two blankets.
Bevy of harmonicas.
Binoculars, cellphone.
Flashlights and matches.
Can openers. Lantern.


Did this three summers ago
Busking yield was pretty fair
Smiles, coins, muffins and fast food
Canned goods and pop.
Jubilant, smiling holiday bunch.
Many a thumbs up
From the wee ones.


But then the last week of August
Rained like hell.
Ponds trenched around the tent.
No staying dry.
Small length of recoiling
Clothesline, but little advantage.
Packed up everything with four days
To go to Labour  Day.


Back to Hamilton flophouse.
Thirty eight years and divorced.
Trying desperately for twenty-nine.
Frame still lean
If he goes light on the drafts.


Will try to read more books
This time out.
Getting to sleep earlier.
August shooting stars to boot.
September factory job in those stars?