Little Cabin

I like to sit alone 
On the crackling leather bench underneath 
The raindrops running down broken glass

Mud painted walls lean on cedar poles
And yard-sale teacups 
Hold dried flowers on a shelf 

Once upon a time this was a fortress in the woods 
With pine needle floors
And candle stubs chewed by mice

There’s a little brook that runs slow
And orange and sticky
With algae

And if you climb onto the nail-studded roof
You can see through the trees
To power lines that divide the sky