ems18
April Fools day
Stayed home from work today, because of the eight inches of new snow deposited by today's April snowstorm.
Despite the calendar, it's not spring in Maine yet.
"Splitting Wood"
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
The house is now kept warm by oil heat
Imported by a fleet of tanker ships
From sun-baked lands ten thousand miles away;
And if he does split wood, why must he strive
To do it far the hardest way, by hand,
When for a score of dollars he could rent
A fancy, gas-fired wood-splitting machine?
Perhaps to lay a fire on the hearth,
A warming glow on frigid winter nights?
A cord, at most, or half would serve for this
Which does not answer why he must split ten.
Some inner drive, perhaps, or as a gift
For one whose need is greater than his own?
Perhaps to sell, though profit there is none
When counting cost of labor, logs and maul.
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
Does he imagine in his own mind's eye
An adversary perched upon the butt
Who's struck and shattered with a single blow
And beaten foes piled up in heaps on heaps?
Like Samson, does he posture and exclaim
"Here, see how I have slain a thousand men!"
Or think that he, like David, may receive
Praise from the daughters of Jerusalem?
Or does he like the handle of the wood,
Its heft and grain; its yielding to the maul,
The spray and scent of sap left in the log
If summer-cut, and not allowed to dry?
Or is it habit, an unknowing thing
That will not let him stop and put away
The Peavey, maul and wedges of his youth?
Does he, by splitting wood, affirm the truth
Of lessons learned from generations past?
"The winter's long; in summer you prepare
Make sure that you have wood enough to last
November's gale, December's icy blast,
On into March and April, even May;
Some years the winter does not go away
Until the planting season comes in June.
"For life is hard, and winter is the proof
And those who labor not, do not deserve
To sit in comfort, warm, beneath their roof."
In idleness, we sit and speculate,
Watch embers glow, bright orange, upon the grate.
Ten cords of wood are stacked outside my door
As if, by simple presence, to assure
That warmth will always live within this house.
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
Go ask, and listen patiently, and learn.
EMS18
April Fools day
Stayed home from work today, because of the eight inches of new snow deposited by today's April snowstorm.
Despite the calendar, it's not spring in Maine yet.
"Splitting Wood"
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
The house is now kept warm by oil heat
Imported by a fleet of tanker ships
From sun-baked lands ten thousand miles away;
And if he does split wood, why must he strive
To do it far the hardest way, by hand,
When for a score of dollars he could rent
A fancy, gas-fired wood-splitting machine?
Perhaps to lay a fire on the hearth,
A warming glow on frigid winter nights?
A cord, at most, or half would serve for this
Which does not answer why he must split ten.
Some inner drive, perhaps, or as a gift
For one whose need is greater than his own?
Perhaps to sell, though profit there is none
When counting cost of labor, logs and maul.
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
Does he imagine in his own mind's eye
An adversary perched upon the butt
Who's struck and shattered with a single blow
And beaten foes piled up in heaps on heaps?
Like Samson, does he posture and exclaim
"Here, see how I have slain a thousand men!"
Or think that he, like David, may receive
Praise from the daughters of Jerusalem?
Or does he like the handle of the wood,
Its heft and grain; its yielding to the maul,
The spray and scent of sap left in the log
If summer-cut, and not allowed to dry?
Or is it habit, an unknowing thing
That will not let him stop and put away
The Peavey, maul and wedges of his youth?
Does he, by splitting wood, affirm the truth
Of lessons learned from generations past?
"The winter's long; in summer you prepare
Make sure that you have wood enough to last
November's gale, December's icy blast,
On into March and April, even May;
Some years the winter does not go away
Until the planting season comes in June.
"For life is hard, and winter is the proof
And those who labor not, do not deserve
To sit in comfort, warm, beneath their roof."
In idleness, we sit and speculate,
Watch embers glow, bright orange, upon the grate.
Ten cords of wood are stacked outside my door
As if, by simple presence, to assure
That warmth will always live within this house.
Why does a man split wood he will not burn?
Go ask, and listen patiently, and learn.
EMS18