Debris
Peonies, a doorknob, a pump
Found amongst the debris
These remnants tell of your life here,
Alone, in the woods, a simple way to be.
We saw the added-on rooms, and
A kitchen that burned.
Did your husband die or
Were you spurned?
Years you lived here,
Centuries ago, on this land.
In this cabin, in these woods,
So near the river, but without any sand.
Was any of the forest planted by you?
The hickory, the birch, or the willow?
When the sun went down, did your
Head hit the pillow?
Did you eat off the land?
Fiddleheads & fungi could have fed you; I think.
Amazingly, the water pump
Still works, pulling water from, the in-ground sink.
We tore your cabin down,
It was not for today’s world.
I hope you don’t mind,
But it was ready to be hurled.
Like the doorknob I found
On the hill to the right.
There’s nothing left to call this a home
Except for what’s left of your light.
Draft, © Carol Labuzzetta, 2023
In the winter of 2019, my husband and I bought this cabin on 14 acres of land. Since then, we’ve demolished the cabin (it was not a local landmark or of historical significance) and put a driveway in that goes up the hill to a ridge top remnant prairie.
Last month, when we were cleaning out the debris from the rock that borders the driveway to the right of the cabin, facing the road, I found an old cast iron door knob. That found object gave rise to the poem you just read.
Today is Poetry Friday. Our host for this week’s round up is Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Thank you for hosting, Tricia.
I have a separate post regarding a contest I ran for those who wanted to write a review on Amazon for my poetry chapbook. Thanks to those who entered. We have a winner chosen by a random number generator. Congratulations! Check here to read the post and see who it is!
The Apples in My Orchard 
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