The Poem

Trace the yellow, lettered dots, remember what you see

From G to G to D to L to C and back to G

Within the center of that shape, you just drew with your finger

A little, lonely building sits, made of dark brown timber

Upon that building is a meter, through this meter propane flowed

Upon that meter is a placard, stamped in silver is a code

Below’s the cipher to decrypt it, I’d type it HERE if I were you.