Pine Spirit

Good Evenin'

And, another peach; warmer still and crystal clear. Can't say nothin' but "thanks", for a day like that.

But, I can see the cold gettin' to the ponies; even with short rations, they eat and pass out, lyin' in the sun like small beached whales. Took some doin' this afternoon, convince 'em that a flake and a half was far as I'd go, but we don't have hunters for a week, or so, and once I convinced 'em I wouldn't give up, got 'em started, I opened the gate to the north end and they figured it fair compensation. Took off on the fly, headin' for the last patch a sunlight, make the best of the last sprigs of grass.

I checked the pond for ice and headed back to the barn, arm a fire wood scooped on the way. Threw a flake for the boys and went for more, gatherin' pieces of an old pin~on, dry to strands of pure spirit, as it stood in the arms of a grand old cedar. Sometimes wood like that is hard to burn; it looks so charmin', all grey and gold and dark carmel. Years in the makin', years in the dryin', truly a work of art. But, a reminder I quess, that we all come and go, where those are the pieces make the old wood burn bright.

Anyway, a friend sent me a poem of Hafiz; a persian poet of some reknown, lived some 700 years back. I liked it pretty good, so I thought I'd pass it along.

http://www.thesongsofhafiz.com/arberry.htm

 Have a nice night!

Best,
jeune