Thursday, April 18, 2024

Whittling Kindling



Whittling Kindling

You thought the time spent on the porch

might get you a bird or a whistle, 

a whale, turtle, pipe.

You paid attention to proper knives, 

care and cleaning, and the 

just right wood.

In the end you merely added shavings 

to the fire that warmed your life. 

A ghost of smoke now.

© David L White

April 18, 2024

Thursday morning poem

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