Thin-shaved and the ribbons curl. The wood makes...

Thin-shaved and the ribbons curl. The wood makes silent,
spiraled celebration, gleeful twists announcing the tree’s spirit. Not in
protest or pain but in exuberance: now
this? So many sensations, so many different forms, seed sapling tree spoon.
And I am glad to hold this piece a maple in my palm and feel it respond, to aim
my attention away from my own dim interior and what it makes of the major and
minor tragedies everyday unfolding, and toward wood and blade instead. Wood in
palm, spoon in progress, a kind of cure. An alleviation, temporary, welcome,
from dread and shame.