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
                  


September, 2008



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