Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

Birch Staff, a poem by Stephen Fuller

By my side, the birch staff,

Ready for agency

To move the burning brush or

To help me up the hill

One more time

The readiness marked by lines

A poet envies, like nature writes

Invisible poems for me to grasp

In my hands as I clear the land

I walk. I’d be Gandalf the white

After slaying the beast in my pit

But with the fire pit

An orange ember

My day’s task nearly complete

I choose to rest

On this crooked rock

The discomfort echoes the quest

My fellowship has embarked on.

One ring has melted,

Another could be forged

With the hard work we do.

Land cleared for walks,

Bitch staff in hand.

I’ll not be Gandalf, I’ll just be here,

Beside you.

Together let’s blow lightly

On these embers

Maybe make s’mores.

13 Responses to “Birch Staff, a poem by Stephen Fuller”

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