Well-Seasoned Birch
Dec 3 2023
Well-seasoned
and even grained
the wood splits easily.
The axe
— a honed wedge of tempered steel,
forged, ground, annealed —
is carried by its own weight
and lands squarely;
a satisfying thwack
as it buries itself
and divides,
following through
to complete its trajectory.
I find my rhythm, piece after piece;
the muscle memory
of measured swing
and hard finish,
working methodically
through the pile.
I take in
the familiar smell
of sawdust and singed wood.
Kick aside
bits of bark and wood chips.
And despite the cold
have doffed my gloves
unzipped my coat.
My collar
is clammy with sweat.
I think about the decades of sun
contained in the fuel
that will burn in hours;
to the tall trees
and their welcome shade.
But winter is coming
and it's no time for sentimentality;
the trees are simply lumber
the wood heat.
The battered axe
is hung back on its peg;
the heavy head
glinting steel
along its sharpened edge,
and the curved hardwood handle,
burnished
from winter-after-winter
of work-hardened hands.
Which are callused and cracked
and cold again.
I feel a chill
and head inside
to kneel before the fire.
Last year's wood,
burning brightly
with the power of a thousand suns.
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