MAN CAVE 

Poem for Today - January 29, 2014

THE CAVE

Sometimes when the boy was troubled he would go

          To a littIe cave of stone above the brook

And build a fire just big enough to glow

          Upon the ledge outside, then sit and look.

Below him was the winding silver trail

          Of water from the upIand pasture springs,

And meadows where he heard the calling quail;

          Before him was the sky, and passing wings.

The tang of willow twigs he lighted there,

          Fragrance of meadows breathing slow and deep,

The cave’s own musky coolness on the air,

          The scent of sunlight ... all were his to keep.

We had such places -- cave or tree or hill . . .

          And we are lucky if we keep them still.

© Glen W. Dresbach

“The Cave” 

by Glen W. Dresbach:

 from Glen W. Dresbach’s 

Collected Poems. 

the Caxton Printers, Ltd. 

Caldwell, Idaho.