The Cabin
A quiet creak in the cabin floor
Trying its hardest to let us sleep
Invites us to watch the light catch the dust in the early morning air
To admire the stillness
Coupled by the trickle of the flowing stream
That that invites us
To close our eyes again
Whispers until they can’t contain themselves
Bring the sizzle of fried eggs
The smell of bacon, wood and sunscreen
Then the unintentional slam of a screen door
Followed by the squeak of our blow-up rafts
As we walk through the woods
Swimsuits under our tshirts and towels on our shoulders
To the watering hole
That glistens on this hot day
Beckoning us
So its cool water can jolt us into feeling even more alive
And to its rope swing
That we hold on to not to jump
But to tell stories
Wet swim suits and air dried hair
We walk back to card games, laughter and a cocktail
BBQ, bug spray, baseball on the radio
Hunting for crawdads
Chased with appetizers and marshmallows
Sleeping bags and secrets
Before we brush our teeth with water from water bottles
The crickets and the trickling stream play a lullaby
And we close our eyes again
We return to life tomorrow
Back down that winding road but
How much better would it be if we could exhale
And spend just one more day
At the cabin