[o]tter, just when did the alien space orbs arrive at your campsite and did they bring a dish for a potluck supper? And did they hang in a gathered end or bridge hammock between trees, or just hover in mid air between quilts?
Whether trail or paddle don't you know
My hammock is the way to go
There peace and solitude I find
To ease all troubles from my mind
Both body and soul revel in delight
As day surrenders to inky night