Cabin In The Woods Poem by J.B. LeBuert

He sat there in his very favorite chair all comfy and warm.
The wind howled outside rattling the large windows.
There was no reason to feel anything but happy.
He was reading one of his most cherished books.

The fire was roaring in the huge fireplace.
The logs had been cut and split before the snow flew.
The house smelled of fresh cut wood and heavenly candles.
It was almost time to tend to the fire again.

The days were passed like this in the winter, in Oklahoma.
One needed to prepare out here in the forest.
The cupboards were full with all sorts of goodies.
Everything needed was near at hand.

The snow was now drifting two feet in depth.
It was blowing horizontally at times.
This was the time of year he loved like no other.
The isolation and desolation made him smile inside.

When the tree fell nobody heard the sound.
The loud crack and splintering was a foreboding
Of the soon to be disaster; as the immense oak headed down.
It hit that lonely house in the forest with a mighty crash.

The peace and feelings of pleasure turned to pain;
As the tree smashed through the house destroying everything
In its path; including the fireplace, and cutting the house in half.
He knew what would happen now that the calm was destroyed.

Death came soon to the lonely cabin, and its owner, in the woods.
The mighty oak had severed his arm and he knew, even without pain,
The end was near, no power, no heat, no cabin, no chance.
He had no regrets that fateful day; it had been a good life,
The one he had chosen to live, out here by himself.

It was calm again, out here in the woods, now that the cabin was gone.
Mother Nature had eaten the remains, as well as his flesh in
This lonely spot in the woods; where he had built his home sweet home.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we'll all be gone, of that you can trust.