A Different Kind of Love Poem~

My husband is a logger at heart.  His favorite place has always been in the log woods with his Stihl chainsaw in his hands.  The logging business has not been very good the last few years, so he sacrificed his greatest love in work, to work somewhere with a steady paycheck.  He still loves to cut up firewood, and use his saw.  I wrote this poem while watching him saw up a huge tree for the winter.  There is something almost spiritual about watching a man do something he loves and enjoys this much.  So it's kind of a love poem. Hope you enjoy it.


The Song of the Saw~


I see him stand,
Tall and strong
As the tree he has felled
used to do.
Studying,
Working out the notes
he will play.
A limb here or there,
this branch or that.
The machine comes alive
in his hands,
and they pass strength to each other.
The chords he plays
are no less powerful,
for the difference of his instrument,
brings a symphony just the same.
I will hear his music echo
in the crackle of the logs
he cuts to bring us warmth,
and I will remember always,
the song of the saw.


Ruby Jeanette