Tim Gavin
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
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Raising The Ax

Rating: 4.8
It is the sound of the log splitting
and its echo
which marks my passage
into manhood. My father stands
by the porch as the ax swings up
and falls.
He studies the way I go
with the grain and let the ax do the work.
He studies the rolling of my shoulders
with each whack into the dense
wood. He remembers his own
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COMMENTS
Chuck Audette 06 November 2005
Tim: You brought back a fond memory for me with your poem. My Dad showed me the technique, and I still remember the elm wood fighting and gripping our wedges in it's twisty fibers, making him glad it was no longer a one person job. Thanks. Chuck
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Michael Shepherd 02 September 2005
A fine, effective poem. Thanks.
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Raynette Eitel 21 June 2005
I can hear the echo. This poem is not only visual but auditory...and also from the heart. Nice job. Raynette
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