spring

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

where 

in the tree-tops 

there is singing 

as the sap is drawn

skyward

into the

dawn

I found the 

table saw 

and

planer, and router 

and

air tools  

and some Ash

from amongst the Maples

who wanted to

come into

the house

to hang out

as the woodenboat

catalogue

so eventually 

some of the 

neighbourhood wood

might sail amongst whales