In whatever clearing we made, settling in

that wood—stacked—learns to breathe
here in these rooms, as all wood must,

they say, & of course. To acclimate to this
air—say humid, say moisture, or try

level of dryness—we should sit awhile
in a parlor or at a table doing what we can.

Up north this time what’s burning & keeps
burning, carried down by some certain

shift of wind, means here close up windows &
shallow every in, a small accommodation for

how many acres—& all those trees taken
down by & lost to smoke, made ash. Today

patient of the hickory taking small
breaths will save some air for what can’t.

 

 

 

 

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