spirit and memory.

hey there.
another dark day is underway.
it's a saturday this time.
the sun is as yet unrisen,
and the night remains as a blue-black
lid on the whole world;
giving up, and allowing itself to be exposed,
revealing all the things that are really happening.
and all the things that aren't.
i can see that the outside of the woodsly goodness
is getting lighter.
the inside is not.
and,
the last of our firewood is indoors.
that's no joke.
the woodshed is empty.
there's nothing left to fuel the cast-iron heart
that heats the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
when these last dry, split, broken bits of former trees,
now shrapnel, are all used up,
it will be the end.
timing like that is too apt to be ignored.
-
a metal bucket full of ash.
that's what'll be left.
from whole, healthy, strong trees, neighbors.
it doesn't resemble what it used to be,
and it leaves the whole place a great degree colder.
there's no point in trying to reconstruct a log out of it,
let alone a living tree.
...
this is not what i want.
it is not what i want.
it's not.
it's just what's happening.