some Octobers

some Octobers

some Octobers we traveled
to Sinnamahoning,
to the simple hunting camp
with tin roof,
bunk beds, iron stove
and spring water

we collected colored
leaves that our mother pressed
between sheets
of waxed paper.

our dog wished nothing more
than this place, wild
with grouse and turkey,
squirrel and bear.

at night it was cold.

we kept brown Army blankets
close, innocence even closer,
and slept
along wood-fire warmth,
in kerosene-lamp shadow.

we walked among white birch
believing things
would always be the woods,

among red maple rivers
filled with islands
of yellow and orange.

         for my sister, the most courageous person I have ever known.