Ode to Loggers

I rise before the crack of dawn,

to drive into the woods.

I love the smell of fir each day,

it does a logger good.

I start out working hard,

as any logger should.

Trying to beat the clock,

to work and move the wood.

The morning hours drift past noon,

my energy starts to wane.

No one knows the hardship,

and no one knows the pain.

That comes from years of toiling,

to supply the world its wood.

Fiber products straight to you,

As a loyal logger should.

As the years roll past,

my muscles start to slow.

My age and dedication,

has an impact on the flow.

The thing that breaks my heart,

is the way the world views me.

They think I rape and pillage,

When I clean their air for free.

My brotherhood of loggers,

risk their lives each and every day.

To fill your home with warmth,

For very little pay.

Our profit margins are so thin,

for all we have to do.

To manage forests that we love,

and bring those things to you.

So when you reach for that carton,

to pour a glass of juice,

think of the logger who risked his life,

and agree to call a truce.

The products that you use each day,

are a direct result from me.

Giving everything I've got,

to manage sustainably.

So when you see me on the street,

please don't turn away.

Extend a hand and thank me,

for the things I've sent your way.?