Sometimes he will just stare
into layered forest, like a
surfer watching waves. Look
closely, poison ivy, ferns, dogwood
flowers. Walk with him, see
downed limbs, branches sprouting
green, but soon to die. Notice
these things, the fallen are
hiking companions. Fractured
Virginia wilderness, hickory, oak,
walnut, redbud, wood that he studies
to know. Even before death some are
stronger than others. Always has
a serrated folding saw, he holds it
steady, cuts five or six feet, bits of
tree dust drift with dragonflies. He
carries these pieces like shouldered
fishing rods. In the basement, whittling
knife separates outer bark from cambium,
sanded before brushed with lacquer to
dry, then shine, touch the earth again,
reflect the gleaming sun.
Daniel W. Polk 