past overgrown dirt roads

and lesser-traveled paths

a cabin waits

no longer abandoned but rejoined to the land

Logs weathered to silver

their growth rings holding time

carved edges remembering

the hands that shaped them

Windows mirror only trees now

vines draw the corners shut

the roof bows gently

to the slow grammar of seasons

Long ago

footsteps pressed into soil

voices settled in the grain

Light sifts through rafters

like dust remembering air

The hewn wood returns to the living tree,

root and beam speak the same language

And the forest

patient as breath

remembers everything

and keeps its own

Written by https://www.threads.com/@laurajmwrites

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