The Oak Lever

I was trundling my wagon along the birch path when a fallen oak limb blocked the way, wedged tight between two granite stones. Pushing against the heavy trunk only scuffed my work gloves! I stepped back and inspected the pinch points systematically. The timber was caught in a natural bind right at its fork. I pulled a seasoned ash pole from my wagon tub, beveling the tip with a swift tap of my axe. Shoving the wooden chisel under the bough, I slid a smooth river stone beneath it for a fulcrum. One hearty heave with both paws—creak! The heavy limb rolled cleanly into the brush, leaving the trail wide open. I gave an approving nod and rolled right through.