Eight Little Cabins in Rye
Joann Snow Duncanson
Judy Palm photo
Eight little cabins all in a row,
eight white cubes with eyes
acting as windows, then the doors
open, as in surprise.
Eight tiny porches, screened ‘round tight,
cool on a summer’s eve;
eight wooden vessels filled to the walls
with tales that the guests all leave.
Summer on summer they stand in place
offering the traveler a bed,
counting their years by the layers of paint
their owners had lovingly spread.
Now, eight little cabins have closed their eyes
to sleep through the winter’s chill,
but soon they’ll wake to the spring sea air
for there’s work to do here still -
– they have work to do here still
Copyright © Rye Reflections 2008. All rights reserved.