The Spirit in the Wood


I’ve seen wooden figures before, but never one like you. Your wrinkled face and that crack running through your body, all evidence you’ve an old timer. 


Oh your eyes. Riveting. Filled with wisdom. They gaze into a distance, I can’t view.

The artist who created you: Did he perceive your face buried deep within the old tree?  Like Michelangelo with his David, I imagine your creator, a  true artiste, with the talent to release your spirit.

So here you stand by the front door, A sign in your hand. For $400, anyone can bring you home. I wonder how you ended up here?

I feel like I could sit and talk with you. Perhaps in another time and place.