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Cabin Of Logs
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By Louis Gander
Other Poems by Louis Gander


Cabin Of Logs

Myakka River State Park, FL (Cabin 4)

 

So far, far away from the bright city lights

down a dusty and old gravel road -

was a quaint little cabin built of full logs.

where nary a rafter was bowed.

 

So sturdy and stately it stood among trees.

It's woodwork was sawn and rough-cut.

The spring on the screen door resisted my pull.

I stepped in and door had slammed shut.

 

It seemed to be saying, "I don't want you here"

protesting that I had stepped in.

But I hadn't listened to what it had said,

consumed by the cabin within.

 

Such workmanship done by archaic tools

was special and second to none.

Amazed, I imagined a pile of logs,

then stacking them all one by one.

 

Outside I heard chirping from one nearby marsh.

The palms seemed to tower too high.

The trails went on for mile after mile

while groups of great egret walked by.

 

From grasses quite tall to warm river banks,

on white sands or next to a tree,

the gators would thankfully come and then go

and have little int'rest in me.

 

As days would wind down the chill would set in.

I'd gather up good burning wood.

So many old thoughts would go through my head

that only my God understood.

 

A couple of hours before the sunrise,

made time for a long morning prayer.

The flames from the brick and stone fireplace

had warmed up the crisp, wintry air.

 

The orange dancing flames were having such fun

and seemed to not tire at all.

As radiant heat would rise from the hearth,

dark shadows would dance on the wall.

 

I stared out the panes of the old window glass.

The view was a sight to behold.

I treasure the pictures I burned in my mind

in thoughts much too hard to be told.

 

The days were so peaceful.  The nights black as coal.

Enjoyed I, each moment I had.

But then the day came when I had to leave

and yes, it had made my heart sad.

 

I packed up my clothes and I swept out the place.

My stomach was knotted somewhat.

The spring on the screen door resisted my push.

I stepped out and door had slammed shut.

 

It seemed to be saying that it changed its mind

and thought it quite rude that I leave.

But it didn't know that I'd rather stay there

and it'd never know that I grieve.

 

I drove that dusty and old gravel road

straight-way to the city of lights.

But heart was not with me.  I left it back there -

with the cabin of logs and the sights.

 

©2016 louis gander


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Submitted: Saturday, December 3, 2016

Last Updated: Saturday, December 3, 2016

About the Poet
Born in Richland Center, Wisconsin in 1954. It's the poem's message that matters- not the poet.


Other Poems by Louis Gander

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