Down from the Cabin

I love the old logging road up to the cabin, down from this spot you can hear the roar of Big Bear Falls. And this afternoon we could hear the geese on the river honking. The dogs and I didn't make it to the cabin as I didn't want to exacerbate the sciatica in my right hip. Maybe tomorrow.
Working on a poem this morning:

Good Friday

light rain, my cat’s fur damp as she nudges my arm,

pushing me further from the dream

my bed a door to the other house

where my twin lives

deja vue cathedral ceilings, 

a transposed room with odd configuration

i see a diary on a shelf

i can’t find her,

flowers heavy scent

i find myself looking for keys.