Walk to the Cabin Shortened

He was capable, prone to a brooding

She had a gift and a calm that surrounded 

Pulling him outside pulling him to think

That his mind was a playground easy to convinced

That all was good and all was right

If you just think about it and banish the scowl.


Their love was new and their love was deep

And she said, "Let us travel up

Up the snowy path to the cabin."

He had a pork pie and some very good matches

She donned her toboggan and they set out light hearted

Everything that they needed he carried on his back.


The walk uneventful, they laughed at the squirrels

The lewd rock formation kept them in stitches. 

When they sighted the abode off in the distance,

It had started to rain,

The mist rose to meet them.

With the North winds picking up a nasty howl

They sat down that night to a tasty pork pie.

The matches to fire like the making of love

His fear fading, her calm and her care

Warmed him as the flames

Reached to an ember.


With her in his arms he felt a peace

No fear no conflict no judgment or revile.

So he thought, as he was rare to do, of what it was that he wanted.

His thoughts turned to dreams and he slept

And saw what was to be, and what was, and what could be

All in the time it took to breathe

The words, “ I love you.”


He awoke to the cold and her gone from his arms, the door wide open

and her toboggan on the ground.

And she was gone with the remainder

of the pork pie

Into the wilds above the town.

Or maybe it was a quick jaunt to the outhouse or short journey to the wood pile.

She wasn’t there.

Maybe a wandering minstrel regaled his tale and off she strolled.

How would he know, she wasn’t there to tell

How would it show if

She wasn’t there

So he sat and he saw and he dreamed her in his mind

And began a journey into the sky

Butterflies and moths cluttered the airway

Hosting a reunion of flighty beings

Bugs to you and bugs to me

But to the man, they were creatures in a brief moment in time

Like the she he was looking for.

Like the she that was gone.

Up and down the canyons of his mind he sought her

Up and down the valleys of his heart he called to her


And then one spring morning she walked back in

And set the pie pan carefully in his hand

I’ve been out to the mountains and down into your plains

I’ve searched a grove of butterfly houses

Thinking that was where you’d go

So I thought maybe I'd look again

Where I saw you last and low an behold

I find myself here with this pan of long eaten pork pie


He didn’t want to ask where she had gone

And why she left her toboggan

Or even why she left the door ajar

He didnt care just that she was


Carefully he wrapped an arm around her

Carefully he listened to her beautiful voice

Carefully tell him where she went and with who.

And for why


It seems a needy child was cold and all alone

And when this child beckoned, his love followed her outside.

The north wind was howling and her toboggan went astride

So she quickened her pace and began to slide

She slid down the mountain, she slid down the hills

She slid slowly at first then raced to the other side

Following the child’s dear voice she search for her all night

But it seemed the night became the day and that followed to night again

And still she saw the child not and finished up the pie.

The days to weeks followed snow to rain to sun

And the pie pan a sled then a bonnet then a fan

She looked to the sun then to the moon and thought

How much time have I given to this roam

And the child still out there, the child still alone.

With this thought in mind she sat down and presumed

That her mission was not to catch up and to rescue

But to journey and exhume

Knowledgeable knowledge and educationible education


Her pie pan had gathered dirt as it was sledding

And grew now a forest of nuts fruits and of berries

Her unhatted head a nest for the winged

The birds in her tresses all mated and born

2 million chicklet and a half dozen  more

Resided in her ears and perched nicely on her nose

Her feet embedded with a queen and worker bees

And honey flowed neatly from her sweet little toe


You cant quite get mad at a woman who now

Is mother earth incarnated and not seeming to know

That her eyes flow with rivers and stream down her face

And pool in that special place that he use to go

His head between her breast

He’d breathe her warm nectar

And dwell slowly on the soft mounds of her flesh

But he couldn’t go there now

He could go or he’d drown

In the waters from her soul

Crying for the lost child.


They never did find her that child unfound

And the birds and the berries fell off 

As they walked back to town

Down the long path from the cabin

Down the long path

Set off in the woods.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Trying to shorten to 5 minute reading length

A young man, a modeled specimen, tall blue eyed and strong

In the physical way young men always are. 

Strong and all knowing except in the social graces

Of love

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