Woodpile By Rufus Collinson (Pocket Poem)


By Rufus Collinson


I love this woodpile,

the construction of beauty

within the ordinary task.


Huddle of concentrics,

the good years and the lean,

sorrows and delights,


the power of containment,

flicker of possibility,

ember  flame  and hearth,


rooms redolent with memory,


the lovelight in your eyes.


“Every man looks at his woodpile

with a kind of affection.”



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