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The Woodcutter's Cabin MAG
July 23, 2021
I’ve never been there
To that home in the woods
With the fish
Hanging from the hooks
In the trees
I’ve never been there
To that home in the woods
With the bearskin rugs
Softening the floor
On the doorstep
I’ve never been there
To that home in the woods
With the smoke
Rising from the chimney
Into the sky
I’ve never been there
To that home in the woods
With the rain
Dripping and falling
From the roof
Must be far
To that home in the woods
Where the woodcutter lives
Working amongst the trees
At home in the woods.
© Sarah S., Tooele, Utah
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This poem is about recalling a memory, a glimpse from a window, or an imagination as it drifts on a cold winter's night...