About Me~

The Song of the Saw~

The Song of the Saw~

I see him stand,

tall and strong,

as the tree he has felled,

used to do.


Working out the notes

he will play.

A limb, here or there,

this branch , or that.

The machine comes alive,

in his hands.

And they pass strength to each other.

The chords he plays,

are no less powerful,

for the difference of his instrument,

brings a symphony just the same.

I will hear the music echo,

in the crackle of the logs,

he cuts to bring us warmth.

And I will remember, always,

the song of the saw.

by Jeanette Woods

for Mark

Copyright Jeanette Woods 2010


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