The Cabin

The pier leads out into the lake, The rowboat rocks each passing wake, The autumn flora fills my sight, Each cold October breath I take, The looming sunrise glowing light, Reveals the passing of the night, The boards beneath me creak and moan, And echo through the foggy white, And here I stand to view alone, This scene that I for years had known, Set on the Northwood’s last frontier, Built on this bank of mossy stone, The woods surrounding filled with deer, And sparkling waters crystal clear, This rare secluded lake retreat, I used to visit every year, Here miles from any city street, I sadly must admit defeat, The icy breeze tears like a burn, And steers me towards the cabin’s heat, Now every fall my heart will yearn, For the wind’s cold blow, the river’s churn, How many years till I return, How many years till I return…