Musings, Week 4, 2002
Weeks at TMI
by Izzy Dennis
The opening and closing of a door,
When wind blows around,
Reminds me of an island
Where rustic is in style.
Meals are cooked,
In family style,
With waiters and waitresses waiting in line.
Is left for the waiters and waitresses to clean,
The campers must clean and replace
Dishes and plates.
Swimming and boating are on the to do list,
Along with ping pong and tennis.
Lazy'ing about with a a good book in hand
Is very much part of the plan.
In evening hours,
As shadows grow long and darkness comes on,
There are lights in two buildings
Where reading is encouraged,
A game of cards and maybe a puzzle.
A fire burns quietly
All day and into the night.
There are special days
When kids get to explore
And learn about plant and animal creatures.
Adults get their day of fun,
Pointing out bushes only they know.
The island is beautiful the way it is now
And trash is to be thrown in a basket.
Sometimes some campers,
And a croo member or two,
Go to an island just to clean it
And learn more about its history later.
Every week the croo go against campers in a tough game of volleyball and serving.
Each team has players rotating in,
The best out of three.
With rope lines to do the calls:
Out, in, or on the line.
So much to do
One week seems so short
And before you know it, it's fall.
But this island does not move.
It is planted quite firm,
So it will be here later
Always a new adventure.