Prose poem description of the cabin etc. (no date)

Here I sit, quivering with Poems. Rexroth's "Signature of all Things."

I put down the book, some of Snyder's
poems have quieted me.
I look slowly around the sky cabin,
not expecting.
Olive-yellow trunk box (full of wire & cable, I know),
A couple of old wood chairs on either side of the
glass-paneled door --
Socks on one, towel on the other,
drying.
The spotting scope -- black, matte black.
The podium holding Osborne Firefinder atop,
A photo of cattails in a pond,
A painting of a medicine man,
A face of a hawk -- both images cards
Received from male relatives
In the post this summer.

A 5-gallon, square, opaquish water jug,
1/5th full,
Kettle (aluminum) and flowered enameled pot,
Bean stains varnishing the outside where it boiled over.

An aching back or a turned-in butt on 2 pillows.

Dripping rain and wind outside,
Catwalk dark with wet.

Wind sounds like a tundral howl,
"Howa, Howa -- Whoooooo ---" whistles off.

An eagle feather,
Speckled white fading into brown --
A little but of white down,
Hanging from an eye-screw placed
Perfectly
In the middle of the ceiling.
Olive-yellow tongue-in-groove ceiling.

2 light bulbs I can't afford the electricity to use,
A 2-way radio on the desk,
And this penned hand,
Writing.