Log Cabin

The log-cabin in the valley,
Long ago was mine.
It had a one-paned window,
The logs were grown from pine.

Mud was dobbed between the logs,
And the roof had dirt above.
The floor was packed down hard,
And the room was full of love.

The stove...with willow-wood,
Made it cozy...warm.
And when the big clouds rolled around,
It kept us from the storm.

A lantern hung down,
To give us our light.
And guns stood in the corner,
If we needed to fight.

Crude indeed...was the cabin,
That stood in the valley below.
Giving to me experiences,
That many in the world...don't know.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

This is my log cabin - 2 miles 'as the crow flies' from the log-cabin Ethel wrote this poem about - that she lived in.