The cabin with the mossy stump
And wooden steps, outside
The one with the old cougar pelt
That terrified me as a child
As if it would someday come
Alive

long boring days there
With not a thing for a kid to do
Except pick buttercups, and play
Where the adults would be busy
Working, chopping wood and
Mowing grass, and me and
My brother had to amuse
Ourselves, while not getting
In the way

The place with the ski trips
And Easter holidays spent
Looking for candy in all the
Places, chocolate rabbits
And Easter baskets
And even occasionally
A toy bunny or book

Mostly it tastes like
Pepsi that has mostly
Gone flat in my mind
Perhaps because it was
What we drank, still
It had the feel of
Something both
Overpowering and
Soft at once