Listen,
up where
the timber saws
sing
Doing the job
of clearing
and controlling
The old growth
that's fire
destined.
What a waste
it would be
burning,
not making
a tabletop
to gather round.
Skid the logs
and clear
the undergrowth
Clear the fountain
and stream
for all to
gather round.
Leave the
new borns
standing
Leave the
wind break
and those
holding the soil
So that not
long in forest
years
The timber
saws
will sing
again.
12.18.16