Should Have Read the Sign

The lamp's last breath, a whiff
of kerosene mixed with the smells
of damp leaves, earth and musty canvas.
Breeze rustles across the tent.

A black mask peers from the bushes
and claws scrape the picnic table.
Nuts and raisins in a stack of aluminum trays
with the lid latched down tight—

the midnight robber grabs the stack
of pans and bangs them
on the table. WHANG WHANG!
Sleepers tumble from their bags.

My father throws a shoe at the raccoon
and it scampers off. We resettle.
Dozing in the cozy warmth...
WHANG WHANG!

It wasn't until morning that we realized
the campground was called Raccoon Creek.

--image courtesy of Magpie Tales
Collection available! Knocking from Inside