wood worker

i like the miles.
i like the great canyon divide.
they offer sanity, serenity, security.
they whittle my soul,
a piece of bamboo in the maker's hands.
His hands are warm, rough, sturdy, merciful.
He is gentle as he delicately refines me,
shaves off the rough edges.
With a single breath, he pushes the shavings far from me.
And sometimes there's nothing to say
but thank you.
good sir.
forever indebted am i.