Woodman
The first seat – a fork in a branch. Pieces of it – the first regulated heating. In its shade – the first break.
We’re speaking of trees.
Seen, tasted as well as smelled and sometimes also turned to stone.
And always used.
We’re speaking of wood.
Useful may our thanks be to the wood scholars, the dendrologists.
Woodman
I lay in a cradle
of wood
I made myself a cabin
of wood
I travel on wheels
of wood
wood is the paneling of my niche
of my space-time continuum
in my glass and metal house
I lie still in the coffin
made of nothing but wood
I am dead
the wood it lives
it‘s as old as I shall never be
wood is a symbol for time
and time itself
lives on in the wood