" MAN OF THE WOODS"


 Born quite a distance from civilized land, 
 This man was,

 In this place, these surroundings of still and
 Quiet lives he.

 Immense sort of a man bearded with scraggly hair,


 Hunts for that which he eats, gun or knife In hand 
 has he.

 In weather hostile or friendly he makes his way, 
 Survives,

 Cabin built of wood Is where this loner dwells In 
 Silence.

 Content to be In this place without another soul 
 For company,

 Whittling wood or the harmonica played Is a passion 
 Of a man alone.

 Fish that have been caught In a stream near by, fried 
 Up for dinner,

 Eating next to a fire that takes the chill from the night 
 As he thinks.

 On the porch settles this soul who exists In solitude 
 Enjoying the night,

 Not so complete without the puff of smoke from his 
 Tobacco Filled pipe.

 As he speaks goodnight to all around, all that lives,  
 He's Off to slumber,

 Who he Is matters' not, man of the woods, farewell.


                      Keith Garrett