Some years ago
in and around
Rockford's historic
Midway Village
I attended
boy scout camp
a fleeting interest
I eventually abandoned
but during that summer
I was inspired
in my pursuit of badges
hamstrung only by
the momentous heat wave
sweeping the middle west.
On one hike
through the open
and unforgiving prairie
a nausea and foreign
disorientation
took hold
of my nine-year-old frame
as if my consciousness
was being boiled away
and the bright and blinding sun
whited out my vision
and for a time
I knew nothing.
My eyes opened
to a much softer white
the inside
of the first-aid tent
with a damp cloth
on my brow
I looked up
and saw my mother's worried face
as she reached down to touch my cheek
with her soft and cool hands
and I knew a deep a mystic comfort.
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