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.