Thursday, March 13, 2025

Rough Cut

 

Rough Cut

Let us praise beauty imperfect.
Tough lumber, stubborn
resisting the blade.

Fallen trees, local,
plus driftwood of the northern coast,
free for salvage.

Crazy grain
from growth against the odds
twisting for sunlight.

A crafter’s hand and mind,
a little rough around the edges.
Heartfelt.

Sanded, oiled, yet
flawed. Please,
don’t change a thing.

…..

Note: I’ll dedicate this poem to my dear old woodworker friend James (Jim) Adams. He died this past week. Here’s a link to more about him: James Adams, Local Salvage

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