the fate of a tree brings a curious twist
– bardo
starting as seed
on wind, through mist
tucked into the soil
spattered with rain
sprouting and growing new heights to attain
shrugging snow, budding leaf
basking summers often brief
sunlit evenings casting long shadows
brilliant colours before even more snows
year after year, decades pass, seasons withdraw
until fate arrives
as a wind
or a flame
or a saw
to be hewn and moved
lugged, logged and planed
milled into geometrically linear grained
lumber.
or not.
maybe nothing more than a log for a fire
split
axed
set hot
aflame and a flame to admire
to warm hands
hearts
and cook sizzling food
a curious twisting fate
from tree to fire wood.
A cubic meter of firewood landed on my front lawn yesterday and I spent well over an hour carting and stacking it while feeling a bit bittersweet on the fate of these trees to become fuel for my future backyard fires rather than, say, lumber for the doghouse that I built a couple weeks ago.
I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.
