Sitting on the dock I hear
The sound of my feet swishing in the water
And the crackling of the wood in the campfire
I hear birds lunging to catch a fish in the blue lake
The wind making its way through the trees
And I hear my friends snoring in their tents
And the sound of the sleeping bags as they roll over
I hear the yelling of a lonely morning bird
as the sun begins to rise into the clear sky
I hear nothing but silence
Then the twist of a zipper and the yawn of a friend
I hear her step out onto the fresh grass
Sitting on the dock I hear the sounds of true camping.
