In memory of Dan and Belvie Simons, good neighbors, good mentors

They always cut wood together,

leaving when the day was new

and morning chores were done.

The wagon, loaded with chainsaw,

gas, oil, log chains, axe,

and the circular cut-off saw

that attached to the three-point hitch,

followed the ancient tractor

that knew Dan’s touch, and always started

on those cold October mornings

though it would not do the same for his sons

On back of the wagon

Belva rode, legs dangling over the edge—

she never wore socks, only cotton tennis shoes

when they worked in the woods—

kept her feet from getting hot, she said.

They spent the day, those two old people,

dropping trees, cutting lengths

just right for the Warm Morning stove

or smaller for the cookstove in the kitchen.

The acrid smell of sawdust and exhaust fumes

burned in the clear October air

as the cutoff saw buzzed and whined,

biting wood with ragged teeth.

They never stopped for lunch

but worked right though

Until at last the wagon was full.

Dan would drive the old Ford tractor

down the hill to the house

where Belva went inside

to light the stove for cooking

while Dan unloaded that day’s work.

Outside the kitchen window

neatly stacked ricks of cordwood

lined up against the fence, comfort

against the coming winter cold.


About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Comfort

  1. Enjoyed this very much. It reminds me of my husband’s folks. Daddy still goes after firewood with the younger men of the family, though he is in his 90’s.

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