We pulled into the campsite
On a far northern lake
The turquoise blue waters
Of Martha Lake, Algoma
Shimmering around us
As expected our northern hosts
Were greedily awaiting our arrival
The blood thirsty mosquitoes
They are not called
The northern scourges for nothing
Blood is what they want
The first order of business
To set up the screen tent
This to be our place of peace
From the waiting mosquitoes
The mosquitoes are lining up
Waiting for their next victim
You
The next order of business
To erect the tent
With practiced precision
The tent is erected
The sleeping cots in place
Bedding is laid out
The bug coils are lit
To be placed in our shelters
I don my bug jacket
The barbeque and stove
Are now set up
The cooler of food
Locked in the vehicle
No need inviting unwanted guests
For an overnight feast
Namely the bloody bears
Peace and solitude reigns supreme
Not a soul in sight
It is nearing dust
The wind dying down
The lake becoming calm
The moon edging up
Casting a silvery path
On the lake surface
Darkness is at hand
Time to hit the sack
A small lantern hangs
From the tent ceiling
Revealing the mosquito hordes
Lined up on the tent screen
Crawling into my sleeping bag
The light now off
I lie there with eyes closed
Listen to the drone
Of the ever gathering swarm
I had the feeling
Of being the only victim
Within a hundred miles
I guess in the turn of things
We all have to survive
Thus I fell asleep
To the humming sound
Of the north woods mosquitoes
I must be a northerner