He is a poet with plywood, solid oak, redwood, it does not matter.
He holds up the milled wood as his apprentice says, "What are you making?"
"Time will tell," he said with a glint of gold rushing across the surface of his otherwise velvety green eyes.
The influx of cheer in his voice made the apprentice know that the winter of his own discontent would not be a road block. The apprentice was told to expect this scenario - the wood speaking to the master.
"This is where ‘experience preferred' is understated," the apprentice mused with silent excitement as he watched the craftsman study the wood.
(c) Kathleen L 2011
