Seasons

[paxsan]

Sitting on an old cedar chair,
staring into the fireplace
of a rotting cabin.

A worn elderly man nurses
a peaceful thought in
his mind.

Winters passing has come,
he wonders if the birds will
come back to their homes.

The fire crackling reminds
the man to inhale
softly on his pipe.

Slowly the smoke slithers
out of his mouth and swims
upward in the still air.

The man pushes his hands
against the arms
of the chair.

Floorboards creek as
the man walks to the door.
His shaking hands twist
the handle.

As he walks outside
he hears the familiar sound.
Chirping birds above him.

Eyes wet with joy, the man
begins his walk.

I enjoyed this poem but couple of things I think would make it read better for me. Introduce the man before the cabin if you are going to spilt the poem this way. I dont think the repeated use of 'the man' works, using he would be much simplier and i think would make things read better.
Oh and the fire crackling needs an 's. I would consider changing the 'familar sound' to 'a welcome sound'.
The above are just my thoughts, feel free to ignore them. Theres a lot of powerful images in the work, I really like it.