Alone in a Cabin

In a cabin trying to stay warm; a losing battle

Listening to a Scottish poet sing

The rolling of his “r’s” are familiar

Wind chimes dance in winter air

Feeling like a caged animal

My pipe sits in an ashtray

The fireplace is pitch black, framed with 19th century bricks, a wicker creel sits next to it

Paintings of trout adorn shiplap walls

The familiar smell of pipe tobacco floats by my nostrils

Alone, again

We two have paddled in the stream
from morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

I wish Thatcher was here

I miss my dog so much it makes me cry

I am so tired of being lonely

To have his love one more time

                His handsome face snuggled against my neck

                His paws tapping my knees for attention

                His warm body napping on mine

                His brown eyes staring into mine without judgement

                His gritty tongue on my forehand

A green river floats by

Not a leaf to be seen, it’s winter