outside time

outside time

from a distance

all i could see

was the soft

silvered fingers

of a stand of birch

the cabin was tucked away.

small

nondescript

its weathered pine siding

blending

discretely into the forest.

walking closer

it was obvious

that it had been abandoned.

is there anything

lonelier

and yet more promising

than a forgotten shelter?

a place to escape time.

a muffled knocking sound

that could have been a lazy woodpecker

turned out to be a shutter that had come loose

solemnly tapping its wind-driven morse

into the side of the cabin.

it was hard to know

what prompted me to kick the door in.

the flimsy door

the cobweb-covered windows

the yellowing lace curtains.

the sound

of the splintering doorframe

was swallowed up

in the rustling of bushes

the creaking of trees

and the sudden anxious cawing of crows.

and then just as suddenly

there was

silence as i stepped

over the worn wooden threshold

the air

hovered thickly

like a silted stream

glittering

and shimmering

with dust motes

swirling in the sudden inrush of air

a pale yellow

filtered sunlight -

overlaid the grey scale

of the simple wooden furniture.

i pushed the door closed

and stood

in the centre of the room

watching

the dust settle

back into soft grey drifts

in the corner

a small table

set with

two small

china plates

fogged with time

by one plate

a pewter

pocketwatch

i walked over and picked it up

felt its weight

felt the slight

movement of its

tiny hands

stop.