Splitting chain-sawed hemlock rounds
on a drizzly November day, I imagine
woodstove heat chasing January’s chill.
An orange extension cord connects my splitter
with miles of lines to where power is stripped
from water roaring through humming turbines.
I watch the splitter’s wedge edge
forward with a soft mechanical purr
until the round cracks with a muffled pop.
I try to reconcile the subdued power
of the edging wedge with the spinning
of the distant turbines.
• Richard Stokes, a Juneau resident since 1971, writes about nature, which he loves, and aging, which he is doing.
