Tuesday, December 7, 2010


Winter warmth is
Exculpation enough
For me to take down
This poor tree,
Buck its dead wood,
Free the light
Of other years
Inside its rings.
There's some good
In the warmth it
Brings, and no blame.
All life is combustion,
All one flame.


  1. I enjoyed the image when it first arrived and now with the poem: truly a perfect example of putting your hand in with no exculpation, a parallel universe of the words, no deposit, no return!

  2. Indeed, automatic exculpation-guards on modern chainsaws have doubtless saved many hands! Thanks, Will.