My Cabin
The mountains rise like white haired ancient gods.
The wolves howl their age old forgotten runes.
In the blue sky birds perform their glissades
As they fill the air with their joyful tunes.
There are desolate, untrodden valleys,
Where the wild wind speaks its deepest myst’ries,
From which the list’ning moon each night sallies.
The northern lights burn their deliveries.
The world seems on fire as they dance ablaze
And wonders at their colorful displays.
I am safe and warm before my small fire
Wrapped in a large mug of hot chocolate.
I built my cabin from my own desire
And I am more grateful because of that.
I hewed and smoothed the logs by my own hand
And stacked them neatly and in fine order.
My cabin seems like a part of the land
And about it there is no disorder.
I sip my cup and think it mighty fine
That all of this is comfortably mine.
The day will come when they will find my bones
With none to mourn they’ll lay me in the clay.
Over me they will pile a cairn of stones
To mark the place where my dead body lay.
But don’t you dare shed any tears for me
And you can have my cabin when I’m gone.
I’m headed onwards by divine decree
And will trod upon a more verdant lawn.
I will dwell in a cabin in new lands
That was constructed for me without hands.
Copyright © Lanier Thomas | Year Posted 2024
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