The winter cabin
Heavy logs, baked together,
clamped by rusty iron;
dark and stained, holding just to a fragment of warmth.
The night sky is oppressive:
hanging dead and dull
a solitary star in a canvas of black.
Steel mugs clinking a tin-like sound.
Figures huddled round the stove.
Streaks of smoke escaping through a dwarf chimney.
Food meagre and bare:
coarse bread soaked in olive oil,
coffee frothing, dark but cheering.
When it's time to venture out,
treading footprints in the snow.
Winter's mantle frosting the glass windows.
A candle flickering, incandescent, reassuring.
© Charles Jobson 2020. For permission to re-use contact email@example.com.