365 Poems – 124 The Hut (Rough First Draft)

The Hut

Silence has become

too precious here.

Tuning in with myself

is practically impossible.


The fire in my heart

is only slight,

and it’s asleep

at the start of the day.


I want to seek a way

through untraveled forests,

and build a home.


Somewhere to breathe,

to wander off course.


Somewhere to

fuck as snow howls

and beats against walls

to be let in.


Somewhere to get frail

without hardly noticing.