Collecting Firewood

I lay my hands

across this tree;

I feel it now-

and it feels me.

Its bark is rough,

and sharp in spots;

it cuts me deep-

but not enough...

to pay for what

I have to do;

to break this tree-

and burn it too.

Reviews

[Cornelius]

I'm not a good reviewer of poems...but what i understand from your poem the tree is a living thing.