1 year ago
My Cabin in the Mountain Wood.
The propane dwindles, fuses blow Coyotes howl, mountain lions pass the front door. The old wood stove has burned its fill by morning. It's cold to the touch of my feet to the old wood floor. I sit on my front porch, morning and evening I see pine trees and mountain tops Night skies filled with dippers and shooting stars This is where the fast lane stops. I must work to keep the fire burning Toil more than I thought I could Be more aware of nature's perils But so much peace in my cabin in the w... View More