(Pere Marquette State Park) I pause, with gratefulness survey once more the room, the rustic furniture, my river view out past the chartreuse sweetgum leaves:

soft, fragile, new.

The checkout time is minutes yet away. The draperies with their woodland print design for these few minutes more

are mine.

I breathe a blithe doxology for birds that sang the world awake, and me; for gibbous moon view this kind room

has let me see.

I find the key and flick it, leave the door well latched, go down wide stairs with gladness

seldom matched.

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