Poem

Cabin

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.

2/29/20