The Hut 2 Poem by John Rickell

Again I walked the wood,
As almost every day
Absorbed its mood
Mildly changing with each day.
The sun at dawn, shafts of light
To send the owl to bed
Wake the trees, unfurl the ferns
Wipe away the morning dew,
My gloves safe in my pocket
Un-zip my jacket to the morning air.

The dog and I are not alone
He visits friends,
Comes back when I whistle
Must run miles
As back and forth he gallops
Chasing phantoms in the sun.

I stop before the hut
Step into the past,
Feel him in the corner
By the crumbling hearth
There is no ‘hello’ to greet me
He does not need me there
We are years apart
His life long since gone
The fire cold and black.

A shiver down my spine
I turn and call for Jack
He never comes inside
Never tells me why
I suppose to him it’s just a hut
An old man by the hearth
No rug to chew a bone.

The sun is higher now
The chill gone from the air
Crows cawing loud and friendly
The robin by my side
Did I hear a squirrel?
Badgers gone to earth.
Across the bridge and ditch.
Its railway sleepers rotten
There’s been no rain,
No water for Jack to drink
We have some in the car.

Time for home and breakfast
‘Farewell old man, I’ll come again
Maybe in the evening
But can we talk?
Tell me of the charcoal,
The hurdles that you made
Pheasant suppers, snares
And rabbit pies
The awful cold in winter
Gleaning kindling in the snow
Looking in the windows
On your way to home.’