The apple cider vinegar we mixed
In water bellies round with weighted steps
To where we know a tree lies dead and as
Someone who’s been a friend to you has said:
‘Dead trees should never lie to rot the wood
Will warm you more than once before it’s burned.’
Still on the way we’re not warm yet. The night
Has left its wet on all the grass and clay.
And in the space between my skin and sleeves
The chill of it makes all my fingers slip
And seems to make me want to drop the saw
You taught me how to carry in this way.
And now the sputter of the chain saw starts
Into the bark and then begins to spill
The flame of orange heart onto the ground
My boots are still and ready for the roll
Of any log that might not fall and stay.
But I am small and will not try to cross
The gap between where you and I are caught
So I can only let them run away
And sigh as if I know what they are worth.
The saw sings out through easy teeth then leaves
Us both with all the morning sun to breathe
And we can take our bitter drink and rest
So father we are warmed the first time now.