Forts and Frost

Childhood fun and games and rules and pain.

When I was a child my friends and I played,
In woods that ran right up to the side of Nick’s house.

In the summer we were hunters, and fashioned

Bows from broken branches.

We shaved sticks into spears,

And explored the dark and muddy areas

Beneath a green and yellow canopy,

That gently rained seeds and leaves.

We lived in fallen trees

And we lurched in the larch,

Which was our watch tower,

Protecting the fragile foliage around.

We were the first environmentalists,

Guarding the forest from

Unknown enemies.

 

In the fall we made bunkers of raked up russet leaves,

And we threw pine cone grenades at cars.

Minivans were caravans

With soccer mom commandoes,

Delivering troops of volunteers.

 

But when winter came it was too cold to play

Without building forts of wind-blocking bramble.

 So we built giant nests and hid beneath them.

And fought of the cold as friends.

Until one year Nick claimed the wall with heat exhaust.

It was insulated with thick brush

And hot air rushed out from the dryer inside.

It melted the snow

Creating a clear line were we couldn’t go.

“Let us in, Let us in!”

We said from the snow,
Excited to play outside.
“Go away,” Nick said, “This one’s mine

Build a fort on your own time.”

 

But it was biting cold and no naked branches,

Could suffice for a warm, winter hovel.

We groveled for entry,

But Nick was proud

of the fort that he built for himself.

When we tried to get in

He pushed us away.

He was bigger and the night became too cold for play,

But by then it wasn’t a game.

“Let us in!” we said, nearly crying with chills,

“Go away,” he said again, in defense,
“If you built your forts better you wouldn’t need mine.

You could build one right now, instead of wasting time,

Trying to have the one I made for free.”

We argued, “But you have the heat!”

“So?” he asked, “I got here first.”

So indeed. It was too cold to argue.

We argued all night, none the warmer for it

But we were heated in a different way.

So I learned at any early age

That nothing protects a boy from cold,

Like the fire of childhood rage.

Author's Note

This is all true, actually. But any way, reviews are always thoroughly appreciated.

Reviews

[Marie]

I have to admire Nick. He knew what he was doing. And I think he handed down some valuable advice: build for yourself instead of trying to get into someone else's shelter.

[Epipsychologist]

Thanks for reviewing.

[Rita L. Sev]

A vividly described story of your youth; I can see each season playing out in those woods. Moments like these are hard to forget, because we learn so much in them - even when we don't realize that at the time.

[Epipsychologist]

Thank you Rita.

I like to latch onto those memories that get recalled when I have epiphanies later in life. I think we underestimate how perceptive kids are.

Thanks for the review.