One of the few differences between Finley and me are that he longs to be amidst nature.
I don't.
With that said, I enjoy Mikes poems that are influenced by nature.
The Wolf House
Needing a roof on a windy night
We came upon a shack above the logging zone.
We tiptoed in the twilight,
Afraid someone was inside,
And if so, what they might be.
No one was there so we made our beds
and slept.
In the morning
We saw the claw marks in the wood,
And the hair in handfuls,
Suddenly free, and drifting
Out the door
THE END
I find this poem delightfully creepy. Can you imagine waking up in a wolves den?
I don;t have an explanation for it. It was probably a logging shack, it looked like it was maybe 60 years old (in 1989).
ReplyDeleteNow I'm wondering, why did I put my family through that? Didn't we have a tent? Ah, it was cold, there was snow on the ground.
Th hair was stuck to nails in the log walls -- like a fur had been hung there. Long hairs, like a German shepherd or bear's.
I had the feeling that someone lived a very rough life there, and the animals had it worse.
Wasn't the deal that when you went in at night, it was dark so you couldn't tell? But then when the sun rose...you finally saw your situation clearer?
DeleteThat was it ... we had lanterns ... the whole place smelled like 20 year old bacon grease.
ReplyDelete