Come away, O human Dad, to the waters

Written on the beach at Cavendish, PEI, 1100 km from home, with apologies to W.B. Yeats.

Come away, O human Dad!
To the waters and the wild
With a campsite, full of sand,
For the tent more needs a sweeping
Than you can understand.

Where vans and cars with roof racks stray
The crisscrossed roads at 80K
Pursuing quests of leisure’s trove
Guided east, misguided west
By fate’s caprice and GPS

Until at last in nature’s lair
He sets a foot on heaven there:
This salt-flecked land upon the sea,
With beauty hard and vast and dear
And hundreds more a-camping near

Side by side in silvan lots
Seeking solace in rental slots
Pioneers ensconced among the pines
Engaged in campers’ social contract
To never make direct eye contact

Come away, O human Dad!
To the waters and the wild
With a washroom near at hand
And a neighbour’s cell phone beeping
At 6:15 a.m.

Where trunks and hatches spilling forth
With providence and stoves and forks
Bring to this land of salty wild
The tools to make it all shook up
Plus extra fees for sewage hookup

And here we feast like savage rulers
On milk and meats in lukewarm coolers
With soggy buns in melted ice
Our appetites they near hysteria
As we ingest some prime listeria

Come away, O human Dad!
To the waters and the wild
With the ladies, nicely tanned
And the men all sit there peeping
Behind their dark Ray-Bans

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,*
Seriously, look.
Remove those earbud, do.
You’re missing it, my little one.
Hey! Hello? Yoohoo!

Come away, O human child!
From the iPhone and the wifi
With the Snapchats of your hand
And the selfies not worth keeping
Of you posing in the sand

Long have we traversed the plain
To reach this land of lore again
To tremble here in Neptune’s realm
To spend our days here by the ocean
And maybe even stick a toe in

We kindred men, and women too,
Who wait all year for this to do
To get away, yea, from it all
But then we hear as we play checkers
Our neighbours just like us: Quebecers

Come away, O human Dad!
To the waters and the wild
With the ferry bill in hand
Your vacation has you weeping –
More costly than you planned

*Legit Yeats

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About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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15 Responses to Come away, O human Dad, to the waters

  1. ksbeth says:

    And here we feast like savage rulers
    On milk and meats in lukewarm coolers
    With soggy buns in melted ice
    Our appetites they near hysteria
    As we ingest some prime listeria

    my favorite part above- i think yeats would be proud

  2. That is my favorite passage, too. Sunburn, I suppose, why you’re sitting in the ice chest?

  3. Brought a tear to this old grunge campers eye…so descriptive, really quite lovely Ross.

  4. Ross, that’s nice and all but my sphincter’s too clenched right now to appreciate art: The current camping situation down here in Oregon eclipses the worst Canada has to offer.

    Clusterfuck is a work I rarely trot out, but…they’re calling in the National Guard. Word has it, they’ll partially be here to protect us from ourselves and partially be using the opportune throngs to train for the impending Cascadia Fault megaquake disaster.

    If they both occur at the same time, at least Trump will be out of the headlines for a few minutes. Silver linings.

  5. BuntyMcC says:

    How brave of you visiting us during “Old Home Week.” Love the poetry, especially the bits about plugged-in kids.

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