The Small Dark Cabin in the Woods

The small dark cabin in the woods is lost
in the daylight hours
when the sun tangos with orange marmalade leaves
barely hanging on, and soon
to be violently swept away
by the biting November winds
begging them to dance the final dance

Just past six pm
as the sky moves from gray to black
uneven puffs of sooty black smoke drift, then bellow
from the faded red brick chimney
that will soon disappear into the night
Well before the barn owl calls out, and
not long before the waxing crescent moon
casts faint shadows on the front steps
of the small dark cabin
where the white-bearded old man counts his days
hoping he will outlive the November winds, and
see again the soft morning light