Peace River and the sound of Drums.....

The sound of the Music was rhythmatic...
a lull-a-bye in the tangled trees above us....
leaves fluttering, cascading,
the ruffle of petticoats dancing  in the sky....
Old tree limbs rubbing, scraping,
their knotty arms and legs balancing in a high wire act  above our sleep....
Fat squirrels, skinny squirrels with Mohawks flying through the air,
skittish little trapeze artists diving, jumping, leaping,
and stopping every now and then to shiver,
and give us their beady little brown eyed wink......

And bats....swooshing....
gossiping with each other....
whistling in secret languages to the night stars....
Diving at make believe fire flies in the thick river night.....

A place called Peace.....

We found it there....
and slept through the pitter patter of the tiny footsteps of 300 pound Boars....
lost and lonely,
but too afraid to cross under the prayer flags, the orbs dangling from our trees.....
too intimated to pass the Spirit of the Dancing Lady ....or wake her from her sleep.....
We found it there....
drenched by Monsoon Moon rains....and ankle deep in tea colored mud.... laughing.....
We found it there....
right out our Real World
and
waist high
in Make Believe...

It was the perfect campout.....