Off the road, into the woods
a makeshift lean-to
fallen, dry, peeling bark
a phalanx of dead pine
saplings
leaning too uniform
against an unseen beam
seemingly felled by human
hands
Placed too neatly, too
surely
by nature, by randomness
in the thawing woods, March
in Maine
too far from the road,
placed there
too quick a glance to be
sure
but it was a little too
perfect, too planned
to be there but by human
hands
Edited May 5, 2013
“By Human Hands – v2”
March 14, 2008
“By Human Hands”
All
of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004,
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved.
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Foss for usage. See all 23,250+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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