On a dusty trail framed
by woods, there is a split.
One can choose to go
to the right or the left.
In the triangle formed by
the split are the ruins
of an old log cabin. The
stone chimney still stands
tall and a stone foundation
outlines the room. All
else is gone with no trace
of its former inhabitants.
I wonder who lived there
and when? Was it a
family or perhaps a
bearded hermit who
loved his solitude and
discouraged strangers
from approaching? Or
perhaps there was a
girl who ran wild and
barefoot in the spring
and summer marveling
at the wild flowers and
learning which plants
soothed a stomach ache
or a sore throat or brought
a fever down. I’d like to
think her parents whiled
the dark nights of winter
away telling her tales
about times past. Perhaps
there was a traveling librarian
who came by on her mule
and loaned her books to read.
I picture her curled up
by that old stone fireplace
at night totally lost in the
words on the page. What
happened to her? Did she
grow up to be a medicine
woman or maybe a traveling
librarian herself spreading
her love for books to other
young girls. I will never know
who the inhabitants of that
old cabin were or when they
were there, but my imagination
enables me to make up a
story that lights up my soul.
untangling the web 