The Cabin

The Cabin

The cabin is rectangular with two rooms off each side where if stood upright the structure resembles a cross.  It’s one-of-a-kind in the piney woods.  To look out a window, canebrakes grow snug against the glass while outside the exterior is clapboard warped and peeling from the tug of vines.  They creep inside and come up through the plank floor.  And where the crossbars meet a deep freeze serves as the only furniture to be found.

Shuletta Foshee . . . my cousin is here.  And she’s brought me to tie up loose ends.  I’ve never met great-uncle Jesse.  Nor am I aware the crackle from a skillet is to mark our first encounter.  At this moment the spirit of Jesse Byrd spry, smiling with a wink, shimmers beside a cast iron stove.  Barefoot, pants legs rolled up, Thomas Jesse Byrd Senior is a visitation fryin’ catfish.

You might think that a sign or premonition.  And I would tend to agree.

Southland

I’ve been away now for a long time
Southland do you remember me?
Comin’ home is really all I have in mind
I miss your company

Take me Southland I wanta go
Right over yonder
Where that Cane River flows
Not too far from here
Just a ways up the road

Fish are jumpin’
I do declare
A scent of honeysuckle
Lingers in the air
White Cape Jasmine
Fill their blossoms everywhere

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