Chop chop

Gloves on

black rubber,

hands protected

splitter rumbles

feed me, feed me.

Logs lifted,  Herculean effort

Man hands strong

girl hands not so much.

chop chop, hurry up

the snow will be here soon enough,

stack it higher, up up up.

eyes searching warily for spiders and bugs,

no snakes yet I sigh relieved ,

only fifteen more cord to go before I sleep.

Log pile grows one more on, then one falls,

not much of an artist where wood logs concerned,

tumbling, falling , dogs running away,

hey bring that back here,

I need that to make the rest stay.

So I’m not good at stacking this I know well,

you can’t fire me

labor is free,

I’m just here to help so just let it be,

you can move it all later,

I won’t notice at all

just be careful while lifting

it may just all fall.

Post note….this is not the stack I made ever!!! Too pretty. Too embarrassed to take photo of my artwork through stacking.

8 thoughts on “Chop chop

  1. Actually my stack is quite pathetic, falling over etc…..but at least it is split:) doesn’t help when the hounds climb on them in search of chipmunks:)


  2. I can’t imagine really needing to chop wood to stay warm. We are so spoiled by our mild-winter climate and forced air gas heat. But the poem’s sentiment is lovely! – Fawn


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