Past the wind farm
Around the farm houses
Up and down the rolling hills
We wander toward the camp
Smell of northern pine woods
Winding up through a canopy
Of sugar maples and poplars,
White pine and  birch groves,
We reach a hidden oasis,
Surrounded by red and sugar maples,
Where four women can relax,
Build a fire and commune
With the Adirondacks. 

6/18/25
KW