Giant one hundred feet. Pulled off mountain into town trailer dragged. With many others we once all stood tall together. Set for time. Day or so. They cut branches at mill. Grind roots. Seeds will grow again. Right here. No one cared about that. Nothing to care for really then. Take cones away. Most crushed. Or bonfire. So needles everywhere. Bark too. Big green. Taken way away. In shed. Shack. Split apart. Strong. No, do not wait for time or seasoning. New felled trees from hills wood still wet. Long ride. From North Carolina. Now sent Boston Massachusetts. To then Philadelphia. Split by hands. Shaped steamed turned joined curved bent dried. Easy. Cut along fiber strands. Not across. Never across. Pine, white oak, ash, maple. Bending never breaking. Fits. Strong. Arms legs toes feet back
