Original DDE™ art: “Bringing It Out” by: rob kistner © 12/24/25
—-<§>—-
hand-picked
hard-gotten treasures—
this is most definitely personal
pristine one-eighth split birch
felled but just yesterday
in this high mountain stand
once dried and cured
they will burn
with the crackle
of nature’s pure energy—
and the heady aroma
of deep wilderness freedom
upon returning to our cabin
the axe and wedge splitting
of this pole-straight beauty
will be an intoxicating release
stacking it cord after cord
in neatly organized piles
between our back porch
and our hand-hewn cedar shed—
both now sadly mine alone…
this has become for me—
commemoration
a blessed preparation
of our near-holy ritual—
one you so loved…
stoking the fires
this is how this ceremony begins
feeling the fibers of the birch trunk
freely and readily acquiesce
opening to the insistence
of the honed steel edge
hammering down unrelenting
from the end of its 36” long
smooth— sure-grip handle
hearing the virgin wood
crack — tear… and splinter
under my well-placed impact
is as music to my ears—
and a balm for my sorrow
sadly — there are those
who pervert the sacrament
with internal combustion
and chained metal teeth—
but that is simply sacrilegious
the art and ceremony
of creating perfect firewood
by the craft of the hand
lifts my heart—
centers my soul
it is second only
to the precise and perfect
burning of the birch—
swooning to its divine aroma
…remembering
it is in the fire
in the flames
of this sacrament
that I burn—
…I burn for you!
rob kistner © 12/24/25
I think Bishop would revel in this poem, Rob, as I do. Every detail adds to the joy conveyed by “the art and ceremony/of creating perfect firewood” — each sensory expression mingling with the pure pleasure and sorrow and desire invoked in splitting and firing the birch. So very beautifully written.
Thank you so much Dora. I genuinely appreciate your kind words. 🙂
This is fantastic, i luv the ritualnof sxe cutting stacking and storing and remembering
Much love
Thank you Gillena. Much love to you my friend… 🙂
They say: “He who cuts is own wood warms himself twice!”
I love the joy of cutting and splitting wood, Rob. I did it for fifteen years until I got two ruptured discs in L-4 and L-5. The surgeon cleaned them up and they healed up well. I have not had a problem since. I did end up getting a verticle wood splitter which worked really well. :>)
A wonderfully nostalgic poem, Rob.
Thank you Dwight! 🙂 I cut my own firewood since first we moved to Oregon in 1990. Can’t do it any more since the heart attack that caused the pacemaker. 🙁
So much to enjoy in this poem, Rob! As you know, we have a silver birch in our garden, which is sadly dying, and we have a log burner in our cottage, so your burning birch resonated with me. I love the appeal to the senses, for example the ‘heady aroma of deep wilderness freedom’, the description of stacking the logs – so familiar! – and the hammering of the axe and crack of the wood. I also feel your sorrow and send hugs.
Thank you so much Kim. We have birch everywhere, and it is a joy to take-in the heady aroma! 🙂
What a gorgeous poem!! Autumn evenings, first chill in the air is my favorite time to walk in Bend. The aromas wafting from fireplace chimneys, the occasional bonfire ~~ heavenly. I can almost smell your birch!
Thank you Helen! My favorite time of year, even more so than Spring. There is just a bit of melancholy in tye Autumn air, which stirs my deeper soul. 🙂
Hi Rob, this poem is beautifully written. I would never have seen such wonder in cutting firewood but this poem makes is wonderous.
Thank you so much Robbie! Any intimate relationship with the natural world is like unto prayer, andy a beautiful act of interconnection… 🙂
I loved following the birch around through its many changes.
Beautiful poem, Rob!
Thank you so much Sara.