Resignation
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On the edge of a cliff,
on the edge of a night,
a dark little cabin
is edged by my light.
So close to the edge
of destruction it stood
that I feared that my light
might do it no good
but tumble it headlong
with splintering wood
down rocks to the river
and end it for good.
And I wondered a man
should pick such a site
to lay his head down
for even a night.
But the storm at my back
convinced me to stay,
to die in the night
if death came my way.
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