PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A Walk to the Cabin

He was capable, prone to a brooding

And to feeling the feelings that others would feel.

Studying the under things, studying the nows,

He mastered his knowings, he mastered the hows.

She had a gift and a calm that surrounded 

A half full glass should be filled to the brim

Pulling him outside pulling him to think

That his mind was a playground easy to convince

That all was good and all was light

If you just think about it and banish the scowl.

Their love was new and their love was deep

And she convinced him to travel

Up the snowy path to a cabin. 

He had a pork pie and some very good matches

She donned her toboggan

And they set out light hearted

Everything that they needed he carried on his back.

The walk was uneventful,

They laughed at the squirrels,

The lewd rock formation, kept them in stitches,

Till they sighted the abode there in the distance. 

It started to rain, the mist rose to meet them,

As they stamped their feet inside.

It became quite clear, to them both

That the shelter it was in a shambles. 

The benign little squirrels must have found their way in

And gnawed their way through

The meager hodge podge of staples

Those not torn were eaten in all kinds of ways,

Leaving tiny remnants of a squirrel feast a plenty.

A few minutes to an hour the cabin was tidy

And they sat down to a fire and a tasty pork pie.

He read to her that night, a tale

From a bard of the woods.

Bedded down with the north winds picking up a howl.

They made love slowly, his fear fading away.

Her calm and her care warmed him as the fire

Slowly reached to its embers.

A young man, a modeled specimen, tall blue eyed and strong

In the physical way young men always are, 

Strong and all-knowing except in the social graces

Of love

So with her in his arms he felt a peace

No fear no conflict no judgment or revile.

So he thought as he was rare to do of what it was

That he wanted.

His thoughts turned to dreams and he

Slept in the wonderland of the fantasy

And saw what was to be

And what was and what could be

All in the time it took to breathe

The words, “ I love you.”

He awoke to the cold and her gone from his arms,

The door stood wide open and her toboggan

On the ground.

And she was gone with the remainder of the pork pie

Into the wilds above the town.

Maybe a quick jaunt to the outhouse or short journey to the wood pile?

She wasn’t there.

Maybe a wandering minstrel regaled his tale and off she strolled?

How would he know,

She wasn’t there to tell the tale.

How would it show if

She wasn’t there?

So he sat and he saw and he dreamed her in his mind

And began a journey into the sky.

Butterflies and moths cluttered the air way

Hosting a reunion of flighty beings,

Bugs to you and me

But to the man they were creatures of a brief moment in time

Like the she he was looking for.

Like the she that was gone.

Up and down the canyons of his mind he sought her.

Up and down the valleys of his heart he called to her.

And then one spring morning she walked back in

And set the pie pan carefully in his hand.

I’ve been out to the mountains and down into your plains

I’ve searched a grove of butterfly houses

Thinking that was where you’d go

So I thought maybe I'd look again

Where I saw you last and low an behold

I find myself here with this long eaten pork pie

He didn’t want to ask where she had gone

And why he left her toboggan

Or even why she left the door ajar

He cared not for details

A bigger picture told the tale

Contradictions confused him

It was to no avail

To ask him what was right and might be right

It matter nil

Carefully he wrapped an arm around her

And listened to her beautiful voice

Tell him where she went and with who.

And for why

It seems a needy child was cold and all alone

And when this child beckoned, his love followed her outside

The north wind was howling and her toboggan was astride

So she quickened her pace and began to slide

She slid down the mountain she slid down the hills

She slid slowly at first then raced to the other side

Following the child’s dear voice

She search for her all night

But it seemed the night became the day and that followed to night again

And still she saw the child not and finished up the pie.

The days to weeks followed snow to rain to sun

And the pie pan a sled then a bonnet then a fan

She looked to the sun then to the moon and thought

How much time have I given to this roam

And the child still out there, the child still alone.

With this thought in mind she sat down and presumed

That her mission was not to catch up and to rescue

But to journey and exhume

Knowledgeable knowledge and education-able education

Her pie plate had gathered dirt as it was sledding

And grew now a forest of nuts fruits and of berries

Her un-hatted head a nest for the winged

The birds in her tresses all mated and born.

2 million chicklet and a half dozen more

Resided in her ears and peaked nicely on her nose

Her feet embedded with a queen and worker bees

And honey flowed neatly from her sweet little toe.

You can’t quite get mad at a woman who now

Is mother earth incarnated and not seeming to know

That her eyes flow with rivers and stream down her face

And pool in that special place that he use to go

His head between her breast

he’d breathe her warm nectar

And dwell slowly on the soft mounds of her flesh

But he couldn’t go there now

He could go or he’d drown

In the waters from her soul

Crying for the lost child.

They never did find her that child unfound

And the birds and the berries fell off 

As they walked back to town

Down the long path from the cabin

Set off in the woods.