Even though I
Blister and tire
Need to chop
Wood for the fire
Lungs pumping
Full of the cold
Heart pounding
Almost uncontrolled
The falling ax
Blade contriving
To split enough
For my surviving
Ends with ache-sweat
I'm totally spent
Wondering where
The afternoon went
Breath puffing small
Clouds of steam
In the gloaming's
Defracted gleam
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