CABIN FEVER

 

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I regret to report the creek
is still too high to cross,
running muddy with white caps

                    where summer cobbles baked
                    beneath bleached moss
                    housing aquatic bugs—little
                    towns anticipating rain—

a month’s work on the other side:
clearing roads of trees, fences
under limbs, slick black calves
waiting to be stretched for an iron

and I’m inside polishing poetry
instead of oiling my saddle
I’m almost too old to ride.

No one behind your desk
to report to for twenty years,
no one to argue how to spend
time and money improving
how to get the work done
when the creek subsides.

                    I’ve yet to learn
                    where the tree frogs go,
                    four years drought
                    between symphonies.

I regret to report I’m tired
of the world beyond our fences
where there is no truth,
no beauty left in the storm
of news I’m addicted to
waiting for my daily fix,
each outrageous episode
is drama enough

                    to keep from thinking,
                    to keep from working
                    to keep from wanting
                    anything more than
                    where the tree frogs go.

 

12 responses to “CABIN FEVER

  1. Love this with the attached audio! Definitely better to listen to this than the daily news dramas.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Nailed it!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Ben, glad you liked it. Also thank you for the invite, but we still don’t know when we’re leaving or which way we’ll go. Why don’t you come to Elko?

      Like

  3. Don’t be weary. Bring your beauty beyond the fences. We need you.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Where do they go? Down deep into the mud to hibernate? Under the house into the dark? Do they lay their eggs and die? I have found them trecking the long trip across the street to more frog songs.
    I would love to hibernate with them until all the hoo-ha of our present political scene is gone. Will it ever go?
    I will follow your poem!! Do they broadcast Elko anywhere on the net?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The baritone of bull frogs in the background and a hoot or two, would make it even sweeter

    Liked by 1 person

  6. If you filled in a pond it must have been to close to the house?

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Winter brings out the best in the poet . . .

    Like

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