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Lakewood Times

Lakewood Times

Poetry Assignment #3

The smell of God in wood; a collective stench from the logs. I readied the axe again; readying my breath before swinging it down. Just like usual; the smell of God hit my nostrils as the oval log was turned into two halves. Admittedly, I wouldn’t know what God smelled like. But if he existed I wouldn’t be surprised if Pine trees were made in his likeness. They are used more per day than any man has spoken his words in a lifetime. 

 I brushed the log pieces in the nylon bag, pulling another uncut one from the bag’s twin. I readied the log and picked up the axe. As I aimed, a curious thought came to me.  The trees; why’d we ever start using them? What idiot thought that the big brown things that sometimes grew apples should be cut down, and who was crazier in following their plan rather than hunting for their family. My thoughts were replaced as the axe swung down, another satisfying chop, another perfect smell of pine. 

Once again; putting another log on the block my thoughts found their footing. Not only would the caveman have to take the time to  chop it down, but then would have had to catch it on fire (otherwise merely sticks would be used for flames).  Admittedly; it could have been a cave-woman, but the thought was so utterly stupid in concept that anything surrounding it truly didn’t matter. Once again my ax struck; the fourth log out in the bag… out of fifty. 

I took a moment to take a swig out of my canteen. While the passerby would call me a drunk, it was only filled with water. I would have simply brought a bottle, but the canteen fit perfectly in my breast pocket and managed to have a simple pop-off cap rather than the twist kind. The heavy gloves I wore would make that more difficult than it ever should be. As if the thoughts were imprinted on my axe’s handles, as soon as I picked it up the thought of the cave-man pulling a tree  through the forest made me chuckle. It turned even more comical when I thought of the caveman bringing it back to their cave-much to the distress of their family. Then; most likely just as the caveman says he can put it back, the tree catches fire. 

“I guess that’d be enough to start using them.” I said to both the axe and the surrounding trees. As it struck the fifth log of wood  I sighed as I once again put the axe down; this was going to be a very long day.

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