camping
with my two sons
ages 3 and 4 1/2
in our yard
as our fire expired
we were treated
to what felt like
a personal fireworks show
then, snuggled together,
we pondered owls and bats,
drifting into belated restlessness
called sleep
by ten Mattheus slept peaceably
while Lucien tossed, turned, snored,
and woke, until 6:30: "Papa, can we
sleep in the tent again tonight?"

Poetry Reading: 
John Reinhart
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