I
I love to see boards lying on the ground in early spring;
The ground beneath them is wet, and muddy-
Perhaps covered with chicken tracks-
And they are dry and eternal.
II
This is the wood one sees on the decks of ocean ships,
Wood that carries us far from land,
With a dryness of something used for simple tasks,
Like a horse’s tail.
III
This wood is like a man who has a simple life,
Living through the spring and winter on the ship of his own desire.
He sits on dry wood surrounded by half-melted snow
As the rooster walks away springily over the dampened hay.
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