SHAPED NOTE SINGING
A cabin perched on the edge
Of a view that overlooked forever.
One could see from a great
Distance for no man made structure
Was anywhere near it. We used to
Sit in our camp in the valley below,
Gazing up at it every night. The
Light from this place was like a beacon
Over acres of nothing, forest, watercourses,
Wildlife and weather. No one knew
Who owned it or why it was
Located in such an unusual place.
As children we made up stories
Concerning its history and thrall.
Now, we know this cabin more
Intimately. The events of our lives
Are connected with it almost
Like a fable or an old, embroidered
Folk tale. All our being has been in reference
To this cabin. At times it does not seem
Real at all, but a wayward star or distant
Fire, a spirit or a messenger of some kind.
Soon we will leave here and go
To this cabin. Our grandparents and
Our parents have done this before us.
We have been told that we might meet
Them there again. These stories are
Like a religion to us. We will go
When it is our time to do so; when
We are too old for other tasks.
How strange that a simple cabin
Should have such power over our lives.
We feel that our beliefs my be mysterious
To others. Perhaps different yet similar
Events may have such sway in other places.
We ask this only as fancy. Our hearts
Delight in such a fine mystery.
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