From The Cabin
Inside the cabin, the piano music plays.
Lamp light supplements the early morning glowing.
Walls and windows and places to sit,
eat, or sleep. And someone
is inside the cabin whose job, he feels,
is to notice, to be aware;
otherwise, all of this might disappear,
and then what?
No bears might come out of the woods at night
No deer to stand as if hypnotized
under a street light.
No flow of time ever leading to
snowfall or blossoms.
No waking up to what might
always have been there,
under layers of unconcern, denial, self-pity, inertia.