My Soul of Maple
Oh how the warmth of your glow,
tolerates my being….
—i feel as though there remains a connection,
as we pass into fall….
—why it was only yesterday that a seed fell to ground,
much like in the beginning….
—our time together often grows weary,
as in the exiled seasons….
Can our love still survive against the onslaught,
of hurled bark insulation….
—where were it not for fire burnished passions,
coming forth as desire…..
—often translated into these my calloused hands,
for carvings and gougings….
—i also could be lost in the outer growth rings,
of playing for wood space….
Salvation comes through many works of forms,
still seeking to tell of life….
—while our forms are the increase of knowing,
that we shall yet transform….
—my heart beats within your rock maple soul,
as imploded words do cease….
—come my love and we shall tag the morning sun,
forever forgetting this kiss of death….
....got wood?....got some wood!.....with more to come….
’’....work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood....’‘
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/