The Cabin


Coming down hard now

Wish I hadn’t locked it

Coming to the gate

Fishing keys from my pocket


The little boat is in the yard

The black truck looks okay

No sign of intrusion

Nothing moved all day


Placed down at road’s end

The cabin sits alone

Solitude and quiet

For a quiet man’s home


Once inside the door

The quiet settles in

Time for meditation

To let the flow begin


The rain is dripping softly

It’s cold outside the door

Put on some good music

Relax, and feel the flow


If it’s there it comes

If not it stays away

I have lots of patience

Music, quiet, rainy day


It really doesn’t matter

Forced poetry is cold

I’m waiting for the warm stuff

That flows like liquid gold


I’m feeling something warm now

I think I have to go

Poetry is calling

I have to catch the flow


The quite here is soothing

In quiet I belong

A cabin steeped in quiet

Reflects a poet’s songs