Winter lingers like a petulant schoolchild:
Clouds jostle for position, darkening with rain.
A sudden chilled wind rushes from the storm’s
Leading edge, stirring birds to flight.

Natural drains roar with the shower-fed torrent.
Trickling streams become dark-mirrored cascades.
Wind-blown branches whip sharply, some toppling
Under the relentless beating.

A fleeting slice of sunlight rolls across the distant hills.
The first stirrings of wildlife crash through the thickets.
Robins race for food.  Songbirds raise tentative voices.
The charged air is filled with the smell of wet
Foliage.

The rains would soon resume.  His usual crossing
point had already vanished.  He settled back in his
Lean-to shelter, finished his meal, and pondered the
Approaching darkness.

As rain beats down on canvas,
I squeeze my face through the zip.
The clouds are swelling and angry;
The wind hits my cheeks like a whip.

I retreat to the core of my tent
And trip on the wellies inside.
Still covered in last year's mud,
These purple boots fill my mind.

I am fond of my waterproof shoes.
I ponder their rubbery struggles:
Abandoned for most of the year,
But mighty when dealing with puddles.

The water rises and enters,
It covers my groundsheet in mud,
But I've got wellington armour
To conquer the enemy flood.

I must learn to rely on my wellies,
When storm clouds rumble and growl.
I have come to a happy conclusion:
My wellies will not let me drown.

I squeeze through the zip of my tent
And plant my feet in the slime.
I am met by a brave fellow camper
Wearing wellies the colour of mine.

There are porches all over the country
With lonesome wellies inside.
If ever a storm is a-brewing,
Put them on, take it all in your stride.

We set off for a long weekend,
Does this Carmageddon ever end?
Eventually, we arrive,
That was a long hot drive!
See our tent as it collapses!
"He" does bust all  his synapses!
I unpack, rain commences,
"Let's go home!" he mentions,
Yeah, right, now the dog wants loo,
Did I bring a coat and gumboots too?
Armed escort of mosquitoes,
Forgot insect repellent, oh Woe!
Never mind, not long to go,
Finally made it all the way home,
A weekend of staring at the rain,
Last word to him I say,
"I am never going camping again!"
(And no more I did)... from my brain,
The poet in someone's heart,
From indoor ablutions, I'll never part.........

Gather wood and stack it up in a pile
it will be a roaring blaze in a little while
stack small twigs first into a cone
make sure they are dry as a bone

Some lighter fluid and a match
if you did it right it will catch
fuel ignites with a whoosh
similar sound as a basketball swoosh

Add bigger pieces and logs
be careful not to bog
it down and choke off the air
building a fire takes great care

Until it is a roiling pyre
otherwise known as a campfire
ready for Weiners to roast
or maybe some s'mores to toast

Or just to sit around with whiskey in hand
on the radio your favorite band
sit in your chair and stare at the flames
lots of shapes in and around the fire frames

From the flames themselves to shadows cast
just like life it burns up fast
must keep feeding it to keep it alive
you swear its alive and trying to thrive

Thrive it must to keep you warm
shield you from the winter storm
fire is a tool much like a gun
my son thinks playing in it sure is fun

Burning branches and its hot as hell
red hot T-post bent into an L
now we use it as a rake
to pile up coals so we bake

In the heat until goodnight
to the tent we use its light