The Log Cabin

By Justin Anderson

Bone chilling cold outside,

But not in our comfy cabin.

The fire in the wood stove that is always burning

Warms the logs that give off that pine needle aroma that fills the cabin.

The gas lamp flickers,

Barely lighting the room.

The fresh venison is on the stove and

The guys are rolling in from a long day of hunting.

Jackets are thrown on the bunks.

They grab a beer and we all sit down for a hardy meal.