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Our Little Bark Caboose

Edward S. Sorenson

Upon our westing course was set
    The wet’s impeding ban,
And drenched were trees and arboret,
    And high the river ran;
But, caring not what rain was spilt,
    We turned our horses loose,
And on a sandy rise we built
    A little bark caboose.

There day and night, long weatherbound,
    We snuggled safe and dry,
While frogs held revelry around,
    And turbid floods rolled by.
We watched the river from within              
    Encroach on our domain,
And listened to the drowsy din
    Of wave and wind and rain.

The veiling mist to winds a slave,
    The wet pines bowed and bent,
To us in that crude shelter gave
    A sense of rare content;
Though from the driftwood, logs and trees,
    As night closed eerily,
Came hosts of creeping refugees
    To share our sanctuary.

But fish and fowl were everywhere
    Within our brief survey,
And what cared we what else was there,
    Or that the skies were grey?
For drover or for harlequin,
    The rain-god sent a goose
To give good cheer and comfort in
    Our little bark caboose.

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