Poetry Friday: A Ramona Original

We got back yesterday from an overnight in a cabin at a beautiful state park, and I was reminded of the first time we "camped" (it's not really camping when the cabin is like a hotel room, is it? But that's the only way I camp) at this spot:

Ramona was almost five on that trip. Back then, she brought Mr. Potato Head along and looked like this: 

After hearing a whipporwhill, she was enchanted, and composed this poem, which I love as much today as I did nine years ago: 

It's so beautiful here.

If only insane, 

I could be a whip-poor-will.

So much has happened in nine years. My family has grown up, our vistas have expanded, scenic views have changed. But one thing will never change, and that is the sheer, utter joy I take in spending time away from the world with Atticus and my three girls. 

~~~~~

The round up is at Reflections on the Teche.