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Walk to the Cabin Shortened
He was capable, prone to a brooding
She had a gift and a calm that surrounded
Pulling him outside pulling him to think
That his mind was a playground easy to convinced
That all was good and all was right
If you just think about it and banish the scowl.
Their love was new and their love was deep
And she said, "Let us travel up
Up the snowy path to the 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 uneventful, they laughed at the squirrels
The lewd rock formation kept them in stitches.
When they sighted the abode off in the distance,
It had started to rain,
The mist rose to meet them.
With the North winds picking up a nasty howl
They sat down that night to a tasty pork pie.
The matches to fire like the making of love
His fear fading, her calm and her care
Warmed him as the flames
Reached to an ember.
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
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 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.
Or maybe it was 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
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 airway
Hosting a reunion of flighty beings
Bugs to you and bugs to me
But to the man, they were creatures in 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 pan of long eaten pork pie
He didn’t want to ask where she had gone
And why she left her toboggan
Or even why she left the door ajar
He didnt care just that she was
There
Carefully he wrapped an arm around her
Carefully he listened to her beautiful voice
Carefully 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 went 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 educationible education
Her pie pan had gathered dirt as it was sledding
And grew now a forest of nuts fruits and of berries
Her unhatted 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 perched nicely on her nose
Her feet embedded with a queen and worker bees
And honey flowed neatly from her sweet little toe
You cant 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
Down the long path
Set off in the woods.
