Down the gravel road from the tiny mountain town

a cozy cabin slumbers on the mountain side, hidden within a thicket of wheatgrass swaying in the brisk summer breeze, full of fresh fragrances of pine and spruce Behind the cabin, a lanky tree dangles a long rugged rope with a ragged sack seat stuffed with horse hair that swings higher than a mountain’s peak Down the hill rests a mossy stone gate guarding a dirt path next to a line of pine trees, hiding a shallow stream with weathered rocks poking through the icy water Nearby, a mountain trail leads to a massive rock and its proud little tree placed upon its peak, bragging perks go to the first to reach the little tree Further, the trail passes by a random red brick fireplace its vent poking through branches, and a calm clear beaver pond, plugged by the nearby lumber supply These memories I leave to you my fondest of my father