mhall46184@aol.com
The Poets Have Been Remarkably Silent on the Subject of Firewood
(as Chesterton did not say)
“…’on back…’on back…’on back…WHOA! Kill the motor.”
Leaning on the side of a pickup truck
Remembering the arcana of youth
On the farm: White Mule gloves, axe, splitting maul
Red oak, white oak, live oak, pine knot kindling
Three of us loading wood in the cloudy-cold
With practiced skill setting ranks of good oak
From the tailgate forward, settling the tires
Loading, unloading, stacking, and burning:
This winter’s firewood will warm us four times
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