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.
