be like a log lying on the forest floor —
wait for sledgehammer’s first swing.
blow like wild wind ’round tree trunks
left standing to witness each limb fall.
lo, tis good to be man who hammers
and saws with hard tools in his hands.
oh my god, he serves the forest floor,
the trees, the land, the fallen limbs.
each medium hefts her own tools —
poets write for self — and others too.
for some, blogs become those wee(kly)
places where we can express sounds.
nothing more — or less — just a handy
tool held by some of us — still standing.
so — like http://susanpowersbourne.net —
writers blog as words press in upon us.
. . . . .
Poet: Susan Powers Bourne