The Lumberjack

By Sam Ross
Champlain Valley Union H.S., grade 10

One fine day with the snow fresh-fallen a lone lumberjack did leave
He needed wood to heat his house and the cold to relieve
His ax across his shoulders, his stride was steady, strong
He walked into the forest, but he did not walk long
Soon he came across a tree, as broad as he had seen
And in the heart of winter, its leaves were bright and green
In seconds his ax was in his hands, a tight grip did he take
He swung with all his strength, and not a mark did it make
And near a day he cut and chopped, and still the tree stood tall
He hacked and hit and deep he bit into his woody wall
And as he worked his thoughts were on nothing but his prize
And as he cut a fervent fire bloomed within his eyes*
And as he swung the final blow, deep into the tree
The tree did sound its final pain, in wooden agony
And with this noise, this muffled thud did his spirit soar
As the creaking of the tree grew to a deafening roar
A rumbling bass, a sonorous boom the tree crashed to the ground
And he knew that in its heart his own life was found
But far beyond the glee, beyond his new-found high
He heard a muffled squeak, no louder than a sigh
A silent rustle deep within the quiet canopy
It caught his ear, it snagged his mind, it seized him soundlessly
And as he moved to look, through the knee-deep snow
The terror in the sound struck his heart a blow
With sadness shrouding his sudden strength he rolled aside the tree
And from his chest his heart was ripped by what was next to see
A tiny squirrel lay in the snow, a bloody background bold
And all its pain and all its fear to him its body told
With eyes the size of raindrops, and its hand his finger tip
He knew its plight and down his cheek a single tear did slip
Awash with guilt and sorrow, he reached out tenderly
And in his hand the ruined body spread out brokenly
His fervor forever finished, he looked to the fallen tree
And with his heart and with his soul he spoke out solemnly
“Alas but had I known, the death that I did deal
My ax now dull would not have made a single cut to feel
For now this squirrel unknowing, his life now wiped away
Because of me, my cruelty, will not live past this day.”
And with these words of wisdom, he sank into the snow
He watched the stars and felt the scars that upon the world did grow.
With the squirrel splayed on his chest, its final resting place
The man who cut, his eyes did shut, as he stared up into space
In clothes so thin the cold did win but he did not lament
He just knew it was his choice, his final life ill-spent.