Richard Grahn’s “Cabin Fever” recalls a small, child-sized log cabin that stood outside the family cabin but was never used. Spiders, ticks, bear scratches, and rot made it feel threatening and faintly like a fairy-tale trap; the children imagined getting lost inside. No actual harm is described, only the fear the place produced. Eventually the shack was dismantled, the children grew up, and the ghost stories faded into almost forgotten memories.
The closing haiku shifts to a calmer adult perspective. Moss on a stone and a cloudy sky that never turns to rain suggest that what once looked ominous is often just ordinary. The mood is nostalgic, a little eerie, then gently resigned—old childhood fright giving way to the distance of growing up.