Looking for Shorty’s Cabin
All morning the cabin
kept jumping up the mountain
just out of sight,
its walls stacked with tins of food
and stories to last through the winter.
I came to a field where rocks
stretched out between the pines
and there stood a buck, taller than me.
Two branches of horns faced me,
rooted to the spot. We grazed
each other’s thoughts across the clearing.
Around us, mariposa lilies
drank the melted snow
and pushed their buds toward the sun.