re: Looking at a stack of firewood and wondering what stories it could tell

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What animals took refuge in the shade of those trees? Or climbed up the side?

What was going on in the world when those trees first sprouted with natures hope of lasting?

One piece has evidence of a long broken off limb, slightly healed over. What happened on the day that it broke? That event echoes forward through time for me to ponder it in a rack at a gas station.

And now the wood is all split, and the stories will soon become smoke and ash.

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I like the cut of your jib. I often have similar thoughts. Like you find an old coin and wonder how many hands it's passed through, what it's bought and the cost to get it.

It's worthy of a good piece

Especially that last line

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And now the wood is all split, and the stories will soon become smoke and ash.

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Indeed, a seed, nature decreed, grows slowly cross the century,
Fed by its roots, a witness mute, to love, to war, to treachery,

Its knowledge stored, in bark and core, withstanding storms, and ice and claw,
Tales it could tell, until it's felled, by man, with blade, or axe, or saw,

Its mem'ry hoard, now stacked by cord, its stories told in flame and flash,
To warm our bones, its wisdoms sown, upon the wind, in smoke, and ash