Nellie Nails it in Three Poems

Camp

Small white house, shaped like a breadbox,
dusty white, with big blue shutters and a blue frame around the door.
There are tears in that old door.
I used to like to imagine that they had been made by huge mosquitoes.
There’s a little chimney, but only a loaf-thin Santa could get down there.
It feels so good to sit there with my cousins on the dusty, dusty couch,
roasting marshmallows in the old pot-bellied stove.
Somewhere, someone is playing music.
I couldn’t be happier.

Summer sunset on the lake

I sit out on the deck looking out at the lake.
It looks like someone has taken the sky down and put it on the lake.
The sun, like a golden halo for the trees.
And all the colors surrounding it are aglow. 
Waves lap gently on the soft sandy shore.

Rain

The droplets fall making a soft pattering sound on the roof like little feet running over my head.
I hear Gram say ‘this house is like a rain magnet; rain comes to it like an ant to honey.’ 
The three-room house smells like cinnamon and cake.
I smile as I drift off to sleep.