This poem is written for and dedicated to our good friend and independent logger Will Berry, who died last week at the age of 48.
FREE VERSE FOR FREE WILL
The chain saw burped, then idled.
Lean and direction determined.
Paths of retreat noted.
The forest air filled with
The scent of gas and bar oil.
A glance at the felling sights before
A firm hand guides the whirring chain
To solid wood.
No axes and wedges used today,
Just a pause and a deliberate walk away.
Sound of timber hitting the forest floor.
All felling, limbing, skidding, bucking
Over now. Scent of gas and bar oil fading now.
Will once told me:
“There is nothing to fear in the woods.”
There is nothing to fear in the woods.
Edward W. Clark, Jr., July 2013