Sunday, October 30, 2011

a poem -- readying for winter

with the happy return of my favorite blogging poet, and some recent correspondence with a friend of mine regarding poetry, i decided it was time to break out one of my own that's been lodged -- at least in pieces -- in my brain for about, oh, 20 years.

readying for winter

you put the gloves on;
premium grain cowhide
wells lamont secure and snug,
bean boots laced and ready for work.

oil the splitting maul and
don't forget wood wedges,
sledge and the wheelbarrow,
coat and cap for the late autumn chill.

the hound that showed up one day,
riddled with ticks and emaciated,
that she fed, nursed back to health and
named max follows you, tail wagging.

you stare at the pile and sigh;
it's way too late for this wood
but next year, ah next year, this
wood will be weathered and ready.

red oak, sugar maple and birch;
lay the log on the cutting stump
plant your legs, take aim
and let your mind clear of all but

this mass of fibrous cellulose and lignin
and split and split and split
until the blisters begin and swell
and then those split too.

you didn't want her to leave;
you didn't think she would go.
but you still have the hound,
and this pile of wood for next year.

No comments:

Post a Comment