Some people have a system
And they like to describe it.
Others leave their notes behind
And we reconstruct their methods.
What does it matter in the end?
Or even in the here and now?
We all have our own way of working.
Superstition leads me to believe
If I dot my i's and cross my t's
The way that you do, I will be
As good at what I do as you.
It's true that in the beginning
Everyone needs a guide to follow.
But after a while the woods take over.
We learn how to make a campfire,
Seek shelter from the pouring rain,
And greet each other when we meet.
If I were to whittle a stick,
My methods would certainly be
In some way wedded to me.
If you were to do the same,
You still would do it your way.
Both of us know the woods.
©2016 Michael Fraley
Back to Poem-O-Rama