The frost in the ground, a chill in the air,
A winter woods has a way of erasing your cares.
Especially with the laborious task to perform,
Of cutting up firewood to keep your house warm.
A flash of a songbird, a worn down deer trail,
A layer of ice over a woodland swale,
Hard work, sweat, muscles get sore,
With the resulting warmth well worth the chore,
Hardwood and fire and smoke and a saw,
The rustle of oak leaves that have yet to fall —
They’ve all been replaced with a thermostat on the wall.
We’ve gained so much convenience, but what have we lost?
There is a gain, but at what cost?
Can electricity or propane and technology,
Replace the good of a day spent among trees?
In the end, are we really ahead,
With fast food, email and store bought bread?
It is easy to turn up the heat and just write a check,
But sometimes I wonder if easy is best.
We have choices now to do what we would,
Yet hard work, labor and challenge are good,
So as for me, I’ll be out in the woods.