I miss them, my daughters when they were young. Reading The Hobbit to my daughters, in wintertime, us snuggled in close, our bodies and the fire keeping us warm, to be rewarded not just with the story but with their "Please, Dad, just one more page." I've nearly forgotten my reluctance to pick up the book in the first place.

I don't remember being read to, but when I was sick, my mother sang lullabies while tucking me deep under the covers, just my nose and ears sticking out. I remember the melodies, but not the words. I can still smell her minestrone soup, feel the warmth.

circle of friends—
I place more wood
on the campfire

Ray Rasmussen is a photographer who lives in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. He spends a good deal of his outdoor time in Canyonlands National Park, Utah and in one of Canada's most remote and untouched provincial parks, Willmore Wilderness just North of Jasper National Park. He writes haiku poetry and its related forms haibun [prose plus haiku]. He is also active in creating haiga [haiku plus images]. In a previous life he was a University Professor. See website.