The air this
Morning smells like
The crisp piney
Cedar aroma of
My family’s cabin
In northern Wisconsin
The small one
Room cottage was
Surrounded by tall
Pines and cedars
Which shed needles
And bark perfect
For a crackling and
Aromatic camp fire
The inside of the
Cabin held a
Musty smell until
My mother and
Grandmother swept and
Mopped the locked
Up smell behind
I came out
To watch sunrise
It’s less of
A snapping shade
Or photographers flash
And more like
The tide slowly
Rolling subtly ashore
It’s one of
Those things that
If you weren’t
Looking for it
You’d miss it
Like a shooting
Star or firefly
And from hundreds
Of miles away
Your voice crackles
And echoes in
My ear a
Bad connection almost
Sinks our precious
Time until the
Real words come
Through clearly finally
I love you
The day starts
Slowly like an
Awakening cat all
Stretches and meows
The good news
Came early with
A phone call
Now happiness prevents
Sleep and it’s
Too early to
Shout my glee
From the rooftops
Low sun casts
Long shadows on
Fields of clover
It pops like
Buttery popcorn this
Sun turning the
Trees into freshly
Washed stalks of
Broccoli or large
Parissols staving off
The sun from
Delicate roots behind
Clouds now the
Bashful shadows shimmy
Up tree trunks
Leaving a dusty
Remnant quietly behind
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 