when your cabin

nestles on the mountain

halfway up the summit.

Sunlight has no place here

except when early morning

cloaks her glory in the east.

Then the bath of faded glow

flows between windows and

the rising heart,

glad to see a short version

of daylight sunflowers.

Lavender showers at five am

not bold purple sapphires

make it through the lighted water.

Summer breezes into the past

fast, showing amethyst regrets.

A lavender shower

must be quick,

before all light is lost.

Tea is dark and weak

not certain of its color,

nor does time allow it

to soothe the soul

so early in the dim-lit morning.

My steps are timid

in maize stockinged feet

as I glide to the deck

throwing my prayers left

and right. Wishes not

to have built my house here.

The rest of the day is gloomy

though I can discern creeping

shadows past the Douglas fir

mellow trees. I wear

my mother’s emerald ring

always. Sitting on the deck

with sunlight tantalizing me

barely in reach of eyesight,

focusing on the emerald stone,

eight carets, I wonder why

it has faded as I look.

Then I remember. This

means my mate has cheated

with the young country girl

two ridges down. Do I believe

this legend? I have reason to.

It takes a strong person

to live in the shadow

of a mountain.

© Copyright Kathy Kopp 2008