We pitched the tent and there it stood,
our lodging on the ground.
That night a wicked storm came through
which took the whole thing down.
We struggled in the nylon mess
and very nearly drowned.
It’s hard to tell in coal black skies
if something’s standing there,
but we just knew and offered up
impromptu, heartfelt prayer.
Yet that did not deter our guest,
a rather large, black bear.
It wouldn’t do to scream out loud
with others in their bunk.
We silently grabbed camping gear
and threw it in the trunk.
But in my haste, I fell upon
a greatly angered skunk.
Once in the car, we drove away
from all except my smell.
There’s little you can do, you know,
to make that stench dispel
or make the knee that hit the beast
do anything but swell.
On this, our final tenting trip,
we learned of nature’s wrath.
And in the future, we agreed
to take a different path.
Give us a cabin with a door,
a sturdy roof and bath.
© Susan Schoeffield
It’s Day 1 of the Creative Bloomings “Granada Camp for Wayward Poets” July 2014 Poem-A-Day Challenge! We were asked to write about a camping memory.