Friday, October 22, 2010
The cabin nestles into the mountainside,
Snug like a raisin in dough,
Porch jutting over vetch and yellow primroses.
Tumbling sounds of the nearby river
Are amplified in the morning air;
Enthused anglers snap lines across rocky banks
Challenging the early trout.
Fog hovers, beginning to burn away,
As promise of autumn heat rests on the valley floor,
I step out onto the porch bards, barefoot,
Feel the daybreak, see an Ozark dawn.
A squirrel scampers off redwood boards to oak limbs,
Scolding me for interrupting his solitude.
I sip black, earth-tasting tea from a warm mug,
Watching steam rise in benediction to the day.
From the corner of my eye,
I note running shoes waiting, silently calling me.
But I ignore the urging and wrap the morning
Around my shoulders like a warm shawl.
The day’s run will wait;
This autumn moment will not.
This poem originally published in an autumn issue of The Ozark Mountaineer.
******Just got some great news in the mailbox. Found a contract for a poem to TEA, a Magazine. Yeah, for me...can't wait to see it in print.