he never lets
anyone in

and probably
never will

he keeps it locked
away inside

so good at secrets
no one is even

suspicious

I'm thinking back to the times when I was camping last year
Sitting by a crackling log fire with Mollie at my feet
Watching the sun set over the trees
The smell of woodsmoke
Occasionally seeing a ghostly owl on silent wings
Hunting small creatures of the night
At such times I don't miss the company
Of mankind
I'm content with the solitude of the fields and woods
My only entertainment is what nature provides
The warm aroma of pine resin
The sweet song of the Nightingale
Who needs more than that?
I certainly don't
Out there in the woods I'm at peace with myself
I can put away the dark thoughts, the nightmares
Sometimes I will sit there until the early morning hours
Happy, content, not bothered by what tomorrows headlines
Might say
Unaware of the sadness, the daily death and destruction that makes the news
I look at faces on the moon
And in my mind see magic in the stars
Read stories in the crackling flames of the campfire
Solitude, peace, the time I love the most