November 2, 2011

Whittling by John Schlegel

On the porch with a block 
of wood, the shavings 
at his feet, he whittles 
with an old, small, brown 
pocket knife. He could 
have chosen a softer more 
malleable wood, like butternut, 
sugar pine,or a cedar, 
but the hard mahogany 
will transform, chip by chip, 
into a trout in perfect proportions. 
Maybe a rainbow or maybe a brown.

I resemble a man, but I’m just 
mahogany with shavings at my feet.

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