Yearnings Poem by Lone Dog

How I yearn for a cabin in the woods,
Someplace where Indian dwellings might have stood.
Land of birch where the squirrel frisks at play
Scolding all in its teasing timid way.

How I yearn for an oaken rocking chair.
Log-hewn walls hung with varied antique wares.
Coals a-glow in a crackling fireplace.
Flames that dance as they're mirrored on my face.

How I yearn for the oil lamp's subtle light.
Silence still, as it follows soothing night.
Lakes of glass that reflect the starlit sky,
Wailing loons with their anguished, haunting cry.

How I yearn for that simple pioneer life,
Earthly tasks and a way that's free from strife.
Heed my plea, for my heart has long been won,
There I'll dwell till my waning days are done.