Homesteaders
James Johnson
From the old photographs
we know they never smiled,
their lives stiff
with smallpox, early winters, and rocks. Or
they heard the forest
grow beneath their feet.
First they built a sauna,
lived in it
until the logs had dried
and a proper house was hewn.
In their time
they rebuilt the sauna.
The old became perhaps
a chicken coop.
I remember when I walked among
tall birches and came to
what I thought was once a clearing.
Among the new growth
a building remained,
its roof collapsed. Inside
a mirror strung with cobwebs
and framed with a dark aged wood
hung on the wall. It reflected
like a wooded pond
the young popple trees
continuing on.
While on the floor
were feathers and scat: another possibility.
Among the new growth
a building remained,
its roof collapsed. Inside
a mirror strung with cobwebs
and framed with a dark aged wood
hung on the wall. It reflected
like a wooded pond
the young popple trees
continuing on.
While on the floor
were feathers and scat: another possibility.