Warm Wood
I know it is warm out,
I can smell the wood in the attic.
I love that smell, the pine on the pitched ceiling.
It represents the roof just above,
The one that faces the sun,
The same one that held the snow just moments ago…
It held up through another winter.
I held up through another winter…
I can smell the wood; the heat of the day.
The roof soaks it in, the pine is emitting…
My heart is not wooden in nature,
It did seem to splinter in February…
There is a certain emission I sense from within,
It is plausible, it is succinct; it is an awakening…
I can smell the wood, the wood in the attic…
© Joseph James
5-19-11
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