Saturday, February 29, 2020



I dream lately of a cabin in the north woods.
Somehow I had built it myself
Unskilled as I am;
Modest, humble, unadorned.
Gray slatted wood, shingled roof,
A helix of smoke from the chimney,
My dog half awake on the narrow front porch.

I’d have my books, my papers, my pens.
All the time I had left, simply unspooled
In a repeat loop of sighs and shivers.
There was a mountain stream down the hill in back
And plenty of berries and nuts.

One day I’d see her coming through the trees
Not some random hiker but her.
She had pieced together the route from 
Scraps of poems and fragments of life
I’d had left behind in my wake.

She claimed to be seeking me
And stumbled upon this modest sanctuary.
The dog would barely stir.
She wouldn’t have to knock
For I had been scanning the tree line
Waiting, from a rocker on the porch
Or peering through the window when the words dried up,
Hoping for her to just show up one fine afternoon.
Although I didn't deserve it.
Like a naughty boy who gets dessert.

The dream fades at this point
For what follows belongs in a home
Not some rustic cabin in the woods 
Without water or electricity or money or fame.
The dream fades when I am found.
The alarm bleats, someone is shaking my arm.
I wake, I have been found,
Lost no more.


1 comment:

Oldfoolrn said...

Superb, I give that one 5 stars