Once south of the equator
Strolling by the sea
I came upon a driftwood
Which by chance thought
I had found,
As it were
It had drifted
Drifted till
It founded me.
Wood,
Just wood!
Would I pick it up
Or not?
A knarly thing
Weather bleached
And rounded
It beckoned me,
“Pick me up”
I did and mused
What shall I make
When I get back
To Shop.
So,
From southern sea
I pockted thee
Now prove
Thy wealth and beauty
How could this thing
I’d stumbled p’on
Be of any bounty?
I worked on it
That knarly wood
I scrubbed and scraped
Sanded, polished.
I’d never, Wood,
Have worked so hard
Indeed so hard before
In such feverish fit of fury,
Guess I simply was not over
My man lost to war.
And I was driven
Driven,
Driven,
To find just out why,
Why?
This beastly wood that drifted by,
Drifting, caught my eye.
Suddenly,
As I worked on it
The answer popped
Before my very eyes\
I stood back consumed
Sobbing tears
Broken down I swear,
It’s drifted beauty
Now understood,
I sighed…
Neither Ash nor Oak
No pine ‘twas not
That heart-shaped wooden knot
Reached out
In captured art
To so consume my soul,
The wood was
Purple Heart!*
*Purple Heart is a purplish wood found in Brazil
Dedicated to those left behind. The poem was inspired by and written for Laura Corte of Cormark International, Woodworking Supply Store, Weaverville, NC. They donate their wood scraps to local artists, who turn them into charm.
*photo is of wood art by M&M Designs Charleston, SC
tom tenbrunsel
Carl Sandburg Writer 2023
Weaverville, North Carolina
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