there’s a small trailer park down by the river.
it’s a settlement of nomads,
gray-haired and adolescent-spirited as well as
just family-founded with a desire to staycate;
you find all sorts of characters
in this temporary community.
during long summer days, life is busy
around the tents, trailers, blankets, clotheslines.
long into the night, kids lay out on the lawn,
cheeky romance roams the rocky river banks,
the elderly play cards.
now, as dusk settles in earlier and
dawn is delayed a bit longer each day
the lights are on, some here, some there,
all over the park.
these little spaces glow through the night
down by the river, near the bridge,
indicating home away from home,
kinship nestled into mobility.
whether some of them will still be there
when winter comes, when the cold hits,
when the river freezes,
we will see.
until then, the trailer park lights will shine through the night
along the banks,
showing me the way home, too.