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