The sun shone bright in the February winter cold,
    as a chilling winter breeze raced through spruce and poplar old.
The snow cried out from underfoot, its voice crisp and grand,
    as the trees stood elegant in their frosty winter wonderland.

“Here’s one,” came the voice of the lumberjack,
    as the crinkling of measuring tape bounced back.
“It’s big enough,” came the voice behind the tree,
    “Cut it down, buck it up, and you’ll see.”

The chain saw sputtered on the first quick pull,
    with another, it coughed into action full.
The roar of the saw deafened the world of snow and dell,
    as the tree sighed, a creak and crashing fell.

Thirteen trees lay on the snow-covered ground.
    “We’d better take one more, we’ve found.”
“This will do!” the answer came,
    “It’s big and straight. Good for the main frame.”

The saw again the frosty breeze silenced anew,
    as the wood chips flew, something strange began to brew.
The saw groaned under pressure as that great poplar took hold.
    It held that saw blade tight as the saw died in winter’s bitter cold.

The tree rebelled and wouldn’t let go.
    The lumberjack, tried as he might, couldn’t move the saw below.
In the wintery silence, realization stumbled in quick,
    for the tree had rebelled and wouldn’t give up its grip.

In the cold, as the snow lay deep and crisp,
    a chilling north breeze raced through the trees with a twist.
The rebellious tree stood firm in the winter’s cloudless skies,
    with the saw as its cherished grand prize.

Vanishing footsteps fade amid the winter’s frosty trees,
    as the one stood firm in stubborn mutiny free.
It held tight to that saw, not giving an inch,
    no matter what the lumberjacks did in the pinch.

Muffled sounds divulge the lumberjack's return,
    with hammer and wedges to the place of concern.
They talked and planned, pointed and pushed,
    but that tree stood firm, holding that saw ambushed.

The wedges rang out their painful ping,
    as the hammer fell hard on their backs would ring.
Each swing drove them into the cut in the defiant tree,
    and that great Poplar refused to let the saw go free.

More cries rang out from the wedges' tight
    as the hammer came down firm with all its might.
That huge tree creaked as it held tight its prize,
    and refused to let go was of no great surprise.

The wedges into the saw cut were driven deeper,
    now, the great weight was no longer the keeper.
The lumberjacks sighed and pulled the saw free
    from the grip of that stubborn, rebellious tree.

Moments later, the unruly tree fell with the others,
    was bucked into desired lengths together.
Then skidded over the snow-covered ground,
    to the deck, it was hauled and unbound.

The sound of the saw again was heard,
    as the unruly tree was cut into beams preferred.
The rebellious tree was stacked and dried,
    then lifted carefully into its place applied.

No matter how deep the winters’ crisp snow
    nor how strong the frigid winter winds that blow.
That stubborn, rebellious tree, a building it now holds
    sheltering all from winter's February colds.

                                                        Tim Kirby
                                                              February 10, 2001