Saturday, April 28, 2007


For a hundred years I breathe and live, the flower of beauty and the bread of kindness. I am your friendly shade in the noonday heat of summer, and I stand pencilled against the winter twilight, a silhouette for dreams. At dawning in the spring I am filled with song, the host to a thousand birds, and I decorate the autumn with pageantry and colour.

Then comes the woodsman with his axe.

And still I serve.

I am the timber that builds your boat; the rafters of your cathedrals; the choirstalls of your church enriched by the magic of the carver's fingers. I am the beam that holds your house; the door of your homestead, and the lintel too. I am the handle of your hoe; the wood of your cradle; the bed on which you lie; the board of your table and the board for your bread.

When I am living, harm me not.

When I am dead, respect me and use me kindly.



I like my salad tossed said...

My favorite thing is to build a nice big fire.

Yegritos said...

Muy interesante