135: Log Cabin

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Frontier wilderness, a stepping stone into the silent fray, this incongruous structure stands, like interlaced chocolate bars, waiting to melt or be eaten by the grizzly natives. Back garden or pioneer’s prairie poustinia, the point is the placement; on the edge, before the wilds, set in flailing grasses that bang their heads politician-like on the windows, or in trimmed perfect lawn, it does not matter. Only the quiet and the stillness can be heard, and the world fades.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

 

 

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