It was the largest mass of wood I saw

Stacked on a siding, clambered on by weeds,

Parts drooling pitch or tarmac long before

Someone had laid them there like water reeds


Cut for a roof; and as for rafters, these

Were sawn too short, and far too chunky, piled

Up like an ancient pyre and laid to please

An ancient god… but then the only wild


Things dancing round it were the weeds, a ring

As nature formed a tortured dance and mourned

The wonder of this pile of wood, the thing

Made more for fire-lit dancers, capped and horned.