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Woodpile


The perfect cutting block should come below
your knee and be hardwood - maple or oak.
....This is where men once stood round an old stump,
Always make sure you go with the grain
....tired and laughing with at least a cord
....to be split from the woods behind the hermits.
Let the ax do the work. - crack
....Cold brew* and funny stories flowing,
....the wood chip's scent burying the lilacs.
air needs to move freely through the pieces.
....They'd pause for a smoke, he'd wipe his face
....in a red hankie as the children ran
....back and forth, grabbing up the wood.
One piece at a time.

The woodpile still stands against the house
gray not green - the perfect stack slightly shifted



note - not advocating the general use of alcohol while swinging heavy sharp blades.

edit note - remove quotation marks

both literally and metaphorically, really strong childhood memory
lots of power, like it a lot, thanks
i

Cate,

I agree with Violet and iveta, this poem is special. Earthy and
real, the reader is taken back to the axe, the wood, the
characters. The final two lines apt.

Thank you,
Boss

Hi Boss (nice to see you), Iveta and V., thank you for reading and commenting. It's been awhile since I posted a poem so I appreciate your comments. Violet considering the subject it's good to know that the poems structure is sound