Logs stacked-up
as Winter approaches.
How swell it would be
to hear them crackling
in a fireplace.
Even now, their beauty
is on display.
All beauty fades; like
youth, never meant to
last long. Otherwise,
it wouldn’t be beautiful.
They say beauty exists
only in the eyes of the
beholders. True. I see
beauty in a wood-pile.
Others see it as a stack
of wood; only as fuel.
“The Lady’s Not For
Burning” (Fry) & neither
am I. — Ray Laccetti