Woodpile
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.”
-Thoreau
