Sunset In Wood



I'm not sure this picture does justice to the flaming colour hidden inside damson wood. We pick a lot of damsons and make many pots of jam and chutney. It's a beautiful colour, as most fruits are, and it never occurred to me that damson logs would be every bit as bright, in an oppositional colour.








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All day the aeroplanes
Will pass overhead, regular
Cloud stripes tracing lines of
Escapes and returns

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There are holidays, business trips
Emigrations, travels of many applications
My best reason for travel is that you often see
What you have best from a distance

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Some people walk the earth
To find nothing, some people
Take one step to find everything
Even if it isn’t perfect

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The branches are assessed, they are
Re-angled for dividing down into log sizes
The first two cuts make a platform, two
Wood lengths, to rest the branch across

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The chainsaw zips through
Each suspended branch
The air smells of sap
I lift up each fresh cut log

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In wheelbarrow loads the wood is
Pushed, over the thick field grass
And the sludge of the path
Up to the lean-to cover

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Under the lean-to cover
The splintery sap leaking logs
Are stacked, to season out
Not too far from the house

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 I get to know the trees, in cross section
Damson surprised me, the fruit being so dark
Blue-purple and the wood inside hides a loop
Around the heartwood, sunset vivid orange

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Empty, the barrow bounces
In the mud ridges and the clumpy
Mixes of grass. Satisfaction of reloading
Is announced in clangs and thuds

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There is always one load I cannot resist
I test myself. I enjoy the experiment
Too much to worry that the outcome
Is repeated. I return for the jettisoned logs







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