If I could hide
away in a little
cabin in the woods.
Surrounded by evergreens
and a long winding lane.
Forever protected and known
over long cups of black coffee
on the porch there.
To tell long tales of the
deepest places. To sit
in wonder with no words.
And no answers.
To lean into a long contentment
in the same direction.
Each morning known
and received
by another.