some fellows start the winter out with just a mountain of the stuff with me it seems,around our place we never have enough so when the wind it blows a chill as if it meant to maim or kill and you can feel the bite of it right through your underwear and spring is still two months away i'm out there now tihis very day cutting fire wood. i'll curse my whining sputtering saw and think about my wife's complaint though i'll admit she's often wrong my inclination a'int to strong for cutting firewood i must be good for something though or someone with a better brain could sit with me and just explain why all these years she's kept me on and when i'm gone i hope she finds a fellow of a different kind who holds his temper listens good and fills the bin with firewood by Ed Press ejpress@sun.pris.bc.ca
Reason for writing:
just for fun about 10 years agoBirth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by canada.