Awakened In Your Gobi
....it seems as if i am teller of tales that bears your beauty forth,
why am i so woodly anomic when all your warmth of hue surrounds me,
culler of the art that comes from hand-tooling your existence of being,
while faith-fully noted are the cracks of character that provide story….
....planed from the start by gouges that wrought some sense of stability,
your spoken desire was what soon caught the attention of my ears,
and what if my hands started breathing with anticipation at your words,
i know now that your soul has planed mine in our journey of one….
....gravel desert—waterless place—in this zone of rock maple beginning,
new life that was all-ready within just waiting to spring forth as given,
from the tree i sucked your maple blood-line in years that have gone by,
older than i and yet was it not yesterday that i was older then thee….
....these stories of our past are now be-ing penned in light of a new day,
can my heart ever stop beating so vibrantly since waking to your future,
who but the artist can spell the speaking that you have drawn on wood,
tales tell the the stories i write in words while speaking of ‘wood art’….
”....work smart, work safe, and live, to work the wood....”
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/