Hour 3: Jaclyn on Vacation

Lumber Jac


She traveled light and west and such

to feel Pacific’s sparkling touch,

and tread, barefoot, on the rocky shore,

where bluster bold and gray-bearded skies

Roll like waves in endless tides.


She tread where beanstalks never grew,

But Jac’s giant could learn a thing or too

Of punching holes through the ceiling-sky,

Yet tread she forth, amid mossy glade

Canopied by ancient shade.


Had Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe

Walked these woods, light speckled, grayed,

Axe in hand, in this holy place,

Cathedral green and star-glittered night

Dwarfed, instead, in the Great Tree’s sight?


In the corner of the photo-post,

What catches my imagination most,

Is the slightest edge of a red plaid shirt

Bold enough for her to compete

With the endless ocean and the ancient trees.


The ocean touched her very soul,

And the trees stand still in breathless awe;

Indelible, they’ve left their mark,

Entwining roots through her heart;

She may fly east, but she’ll never come back;

They’ve stolen the soul of Lumber Jac.

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