Shack Wacky

A visit to a cabin in the woods
is both exotic and terrifying
for this city born boy.

The wind and vacuum of silence
make my sinuses and brain quiver.

True, my Christmas-time cold may be to blame
but that detail is not essential
to the molten core of this poem.

I was once told never to use
the word quiver in a poem
but I stand by my word choice.

It makes my heart throb with joy.

Greg Santos
Bains Corner, New Brunswick
December 28, 2010

1 comment:

Josh Levy said...

I like the 'molten core of this poem' line a lot.