Recent longing for a wood paneled room

Never thought I'd want such an outdated place

of course a smell of varnish

tobacco leaf unburnt 

memory under dusty glass

all cling to the walls

and if sun does filter in

it will be as if through a canopy

a cave door.

This room holds old notions

of human possibility

of order plankbyplank

burnished years cut lengthwise

the hum of life

the nest of it

old cabin cradling.

Living room like I grew up in

shelter from storms waves winter sun

window melds with lake and star.

Just need some biophilic miracle to hold me

as my soul goes searching at night

jaw wrenching with ghosts.

Need tender slabs of supple wood

womb room warm with tight seams

we could scream here, sing here

cry into each others' laps, sip

concoctions, cook up stories

write sonnets.

We could dance like bees

in their hive

vibrating with clarity

in the half-dark

seeking directions to 

nectar.