One more short one before heading to bed, perchance to READ! Summer Magic is divided into two parts. The first part is called “Mac At Ten,” and the poems involve MacKenzie Cole from Wake-Robin Ridge, when he was a boy of ten, and spent his summers camping on the Ridge, with his dad. This is the poem that gives the collection its name, and is the very essence of the little boy Mac was at that point in his life. Enjoy!
Crawling quietly from his tent,
His dad still lost in slumber within,
He sits down alone on the granite slab,
Coltish legs drawn up to his chin,
And arms wrapped around skinny knees.
He gazes toward the pale horizon,
Watching the sleeping valley below.
With breath held in anticipation,
He waits for the magic
He knows will come.
There! A thin curve of molten red!
A far away sliver of fiery light
Breaks the horizon.
It bathes the tops of the rolling hills
In a brilliant spill of gold.
Gives way to butter yellow
In front of his wide, blue eyes,
The world awakens.
Magic arrives and
Day is born,
He smiles to himself and wraps
His arms more tightly
Around his knees,
Shivering in private delight, and
Holding the beauty
Having already learned
Some magic is