Saturday, March 14, 2015


a whisky moon
has lurched into
the gloom
the season's snow
thunders off 
the metal slopes
as spring displays
an angry face

sunshine at zero
one of the three maples
from my island
is split and stacked
after being
so hung up
that the tractor 
couldn't pull it over
so I dragged the butt
off the stump
and down the frozen lane

the ply-wood remembers 
being alive and growing tall
remembers the warmth of 
spring sunshine when
it was small

I see you 
in passing
and revise your image 
in the book-matched veneer
through my eyes
in the windy 
spring moonlight
in the tree-tops 
there is singing 
as the sap is drawn
into the

I found the 
table saw 
planer, and router 
air tools  
and some Ash
from amongst the Maples
who wanted to
come into
the house
to hang out
as the woodenboat

so eventually 
some of the 
neighbourhood wood
might sail amongst whales

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