This Tiny Little Cabin In The Woods

this tiny little cabin in the woods

sitting above the swift icy green and white capped river

tucked beneath the moss laden trees

and their chandeliered branches of crystaled rain

dripped in hazy golden light

with talking knots and ticking clocks

and thudded rooftop showers

in this tiny little cabin

a night filled with the intoxicating balm of belly laughs and warm bodies

has turned hermitage by morning’s light

vacuumed still with a muted loneness

hushed under a blanket of tender tears

to celebrate and grieve is why i came to this tiny little cabin

fullness and emptiness brimming in this tiny little cabin

bearing space to be alone

to be sad alone

to be scared alone

i have been so scared to be sad and alone

but here i am, in this tiny little cabin

a little sad, a little alone

with this aching tether to love

and the bittersweet attending to

love lost and

love transforming

sitting with the grief of love moving from here to there

love outgrowing locked down treasure chests

where i have laid claim to the prize of her

and held her captive to admire, hoard, and devour

but in this tiny little cabin

i can feel the invitation perforating

to the experiencing of her

over the preserving of her

though i am so timid in my release of her as i have known her

hoping she sticks around once set free

hoping i’m enough to hold her attention and draw her care

at least, for today

this is how it feels

in this tiny little cabin

on this rainy day in march

in the hills of gold bar