A poem

Whittling: The Last Class

by John Stone

What has been written
about whittling 
is not true

most of it

It is the discovery
that keeps
the fingers moving

not idleness

but the knife looking for 
the right plane
that will let the secret out

Whittling is no pastime

he says
who has been whittling 
in spare minutes at the wood

of his life for forty years

Three rules he thinks
have helped
Make small cuts

In this way

you may be able to stop before
what was to be an arm
has to be something else

Always whittle away from yourself

and toward something.
For God's sake
and your own
know when to stop

Whittling is the best example
I know of what most 
may happen when

least expected

bad or good
Hurry before
angina comes like a pair of pliers

over your left shoulder

There is plenty of wood
for everyone 
and you

Go ahead now

May you find
in the waiting wood
rough unspoken

what is true

or
nearly true
or 

true enough.