The summit cabin
As I gaze across the wilderness,
the dark green hills fading to white
with each successive hill,
I see the future.
The frost on the willow,
glistening like smiling teeth
reminds me of friends
who take this trip to the future.
The snow flakes drifting down
gently obscuring first this tree
and then that tree. Sometimes
we don't see all the future.
The dark brown cabin perched
against the hill, crooked stovepipe
cracked windows. I know that we
aren't perfect now or in the future.