A Lean To

by Daniel Brothers

There is a lean to at the end of my favorite hike,

And it’s certainly not the only lean-to, nor my only favorite hike,

But I know that it’s there. 

And no matter how long I’m away from the wilderness,

From the rapids rushing over rocks, mixing the scent of pine

With dark brown algae and earth, 

I know that it’s still there. 

Simple, as most lean to’s are, great old trees and rocks

turned into a safe spot to rest, and hide from the flies.

I know what it’s like to rest there

I can visit it in my brain, though I am usually far away.

 The distance almost makes it easier to recall, 

in a strange way. 

So distant, it becomes a constant,

stationary in my mind, and sweeter for it.

Because I left the flies behind, and took the pine and the earth,

And the rocks are there too.

What would I do if one day I walked down the path

And found an empty clearing. No note, no smoke.

Just an empty clearing where rapids rush and breed flies

In hard rocky pools. 

Would I sit on the rocky earth where once was shade, 

Deer flies buzzing for blood about my head? 

Would I tell yourself “Nothing is stationary in the planetary sense,” 

As I hurdle wildly around the sun? 

I mean it is only natural

For a lean-to to go away, structures are only temporary after all.

Only natural, 

That it too would scent the air with rotting pine,

But what would I do when I left that clearing

At the end of my favorite hike.

How would I rectify a lifetime worth of hikes,

Thousands of happy rests in the shade,

With a harsh barren clearing.

As I turn the bend, Just over the fallen log,

To see an empty clearing where a lean-to once was. 

My salt sweat tears mix with the scent of pine,

Dark green algae, and dirt. 

I find a bare, hot rock, dappled with leaves

Already filling the space where the lean-to once was. 

I sit, to find the new constant, for the end of my favorite hike. 

hot and swarmed by deer flies out for blood.