in the falling snow

you split wood for the stove

wood from a forty foot standing pine

killed by thousands of beetle larvae

eating from the inside

felled with a chain saw

limbs removed

the rest cut into eighteen inch blocks

then thrown uphill

as many times as it took to reach the truck

now, it and others like it

lie in a snow covered pile near the door

the hills are obscured by big flakes

drifting and floating in the air

you take an armful of split wood inside

to feed the ever hungry stove

the big room is warm

sweet from the pine and whisks of wood smoke

coffee and Yukon Jack await on the stove

someone is tuning a guitar

Copyright Michael Douglas Scott