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“Wood,” from the New Yorker

June 17, 2014

Wood

Of all the elements, it is happiest in our houses.
It will sit with us, eat with us, lie down
and hold our books (themselves a rustling woods),
bearing our floors and roofs without weariness,
for unlike us it does not resent its faithfulness
or question why, for what, how long?

James Richardson
from “Essay on Wood” in The New Yorker (June 9 & 16, 2014)

 

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