Overgrowths of arm-post life
Lift upward as my steam-breath
Vanishes thinly into the sky.

Cool sweat drips deliberately
As the stacks grow larger
And the sawdust smells and sticks.

The wagon-load will wallow obediently
As the frost bites cleanly
Through the still winter dusk.

Ash white smoke curls softly
From the cut-stone chimney
Where a portrait of simplicity
Sleeps eternally in my mind.