Find your way back, take the long route that
sidles by the lake, blinding your troubles.
Every kind of wave flashes like stars
lining a long night of memories.
You had it then, a certainty of laughter
as you all circled at evening’s fire.
Spinning tunes or tales, one more, another,
tongues of smoke lassoing you. Such headiness.
And morning kissed your eyelids as
the bay curled around front porches
and boats rocked, impatient,
white sails slack as summered thinking,
until they came alive under your hands.
Nothing could be better,
you thought. And much after that
was not such an benign adventure.
You speak of that life as if it was
a kind of holiness in childhood and youth.
Go, find your way back,
take the long route that carries you
back to bright rustlings, sailing
into the wind, bronzed and lionhearted;
reawaken that appetite for joy and its mercy
Tales for Life 
MWR?
Someone close to me 🙂
Ah. I thought so, but I was confused by the army Morale, Welfare, and Recreation that Google gave me.
Oh my goodness! Haha!
–It was for my spouse, who had the good fortune of spending summers for decades at his grandparents’ waterfront house within an exclusive (not necessarily wealthy–it was an educational as well as leisurely community after the example of Chautauqua camps/groups) summer community. It is a truly gorgeous area of northern MI. I got to visit there as well after marriage and had a lot of fun with our family.
🙂