Big Rock.


The trees were all taller than any
she had ever seen
though narrower than she expected.

Their canopy seemed to stretch
beyond everything
and, somewhere,
there was a rock
so big
that the entire campground bore its name.

The sprung tents
were all small
Dow scrubbing bubbles
alighting on their assigned mounds
like UFOs
stopping to hide
in the forest.

Huddling against their neighbors’,
a baby raccoon
found the center of attention.
She went over for a closer look
with her husband
while he chatted with the family.

Smiling at the two young girls
she noted their mother’s long brown hair
and their father,
Kenny Loggins,
with downcast gaze
expecting any moment
to be recognized.

While they were talking
the baby raccoon
walked away quietly

and, later,
as the sun dropped from the sky,
her husband
standing outside of the tent
removed all his clothes.

.

.

.

.

.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

2012 all rights reserved. Good night.

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