the cabin


  • Life
  • ,
  • Death

    the cabin

    this winter has been harsher
    than most
    even though the winds haven't blown
    as hard
    and there is not much snow
    i have become colder
    within myself
    waiting for the thawing
    and spring
    knowing that spring
    muddies the creek
    i am a winter person
    never before discontent with it
    the bare limbs will soon enough have buds

    The cabin sat in the upper right edge of the meadow catty-cornered to the wind in front of a stand of Aspen. From the door you could see Laramie Peak 85 miles to the northeast. The start of a mountain range called the Shirlies to the west and north.
    He was sitting in his chair. The few dishes in the sink were clean. By His bed, his boots stood empty and clean. By the chair on the floor lay a gun. A note underneath a bottle of whiskey on the table read: 'Help yourself to a drink. Bury me from where i can see the valley."
    After we found him we came back with a back hoe and buried him from where he could see the valley.
    Medicine Bow Mountain Range 1960's

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    duty commented on the cabin


    You're on a path, but not alone.....When troubles came your way.....To share another hardship.......And still found time to pray...

    Teardrops commented on the cabin


    This is a wonderful poem sad to die and have to leave an note to someone as to your remains . Winter is a lonely season and all around us seems dead cant wait for spring to bring the life back great write Marie

    RHPeat commented on the cabin


    Wrong title. The poem's not about the cabin/ it about the "winter thaw" at the cabin. But the comment/ statement below the poem is a prose poem which is about the cabin. That should be called the cabin. This is a remarkable poem in two parts 1 & 2 about the passing of someone loved in a unique way. It shows great compassion for another journey threw life into the after life. It a fantastic eulogy. I'm not sure the reiteration of "waiting" works in the first section however. A poet friend. RH Peat

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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