Reunion at Summer Camp

Picking Up Daughter at Camp

She walks like a familiar stranger
on a shaded path from the lake
her legs impossibly long
as if stretched on a rack for three weeks
one thin card in a shuffling pack
of nine-year-old girls in swim suits
and flip flops
raising dappled gold bars of dust.

I listen to my heart till she sees me
hurrying her pace but keeping
cool till the last few yards
then surrendering to the pull
of hugging distance, tan arms
clamping my waist as I bury
my face in the sheen of her hair
inhale her impossible essence
feel her quivering not wanting
to let me go, attaching herself
to my side through supper
then out to vespers’ cool fierce dark
a father daughter twining
in the ambient scent of pines.