Cabin Fever

At three
in the afternoon
sun tilts behind mountain,
abandons high-canyon
stacked to crush
flesh and bone.
In shock of night.
dark water wends
its icy way through slit
in earth. Night
brings brutal hours
to the damned.
Forgotten
the blessing of day,
in frozen dark
water turns to ice
in cabin pipes.
Till then my rock
is zone of joy.
Again
I am hoodwinked
by brightness -
by day
my rock is pink.
I leap to it,
sit mid-torrent where
water races, divides,
regroups, sun burns
my upturned face,
icicles reflect gold.
Pecos river
sweeps through
Ponderosa pines.
In its roar I sing
and shout at Windy Bridge
and call on Holy Ghost Cabin.
No-one hears my song
lamenting those
I never loved.
I see their beauty now
and carry them with me.
Excision is necessary
to accept this starkness
and hunger leaping
from every page
of my only book.
It’s morning now
light comes -
a bear’s footprints
outside the door,
a gift in the snow.