I drew the fateful card
I was downcast, tired, and shivery
the skies went dark and it rained real hard.
I think it came from a town called Hope
where I got to sing some jazz
friends and I hiked a sketchy scree slope
in fog-furious-est wind the mountain has.
I got better and then returned the sun
I could taste and smell with ease
I climbed up to a tired old glacier tongue
and ate decadent mac 'n' cheez.
Our staff the virus one by one detained
but we rallied to keep up the fun
rafting, story hour, secret Santa reigned
thus our morale was hard won.
Into the lake I dropped my phone
I dived with a friend and he pulled it back out;
I sliced my finger with a rueful moan
a gnarly scar there will be, no doubt.
And here I search for the words to say
I am pleased upon my 39th birthday
with many well wishes, words thoughtful and droll
a beach fire with friends and an old forest troll.
Luke and Krista on a ridge above Lost Lake
Idyllic camp spot
Sam the bridge troll
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