Chopping Wood

dedicated with love to my Dad Eric Nelson

the Warmly dressed provider
(cold azule sky above)
taking a broad, relaxed stance
(watched by adoring eyes of mutts)

his hands solidly spread
(before and after Augustus and Auschwitz)
lifts up axe-bit high behind him
(in Africa, China, or Pennsylvania)

guides gravity downward with powerful grace
(an affirmation or quantums crackling?)
the blade finds the previous split
(a wife is chopping carrots for lamb stew)

two halves soaring apart
(nearby pine roots drink)
feels fleeting pride in his art
(a herd of wild hooves patter up a nearby hill)

places another stout round on the haggard chopping block
(he may know Plato and Shakespeare,
be a devotee of Neruda,
or have heard a few Confucian proverbs from a learned friend
to whom he gives wood)