Young oaks and loblollies,
Fill up the space,
At the feet of tree skeletons,
Slowly taking their place,
Shadows straight as arrows,
Paint themselves across the land,
We weave through a maze of charred-black trunks,
Leaving footprints in the sand,
Pick Mattocks lead the way,
Followed up by Mcleods,
We cut ourselves a trail,
Beneath the sun and the clouds,
With dust in the air, and the sun in our eyes,
We search for ash junipers,
Of the right shape and size,
The face cut is in,
The back cut is too,
Get out of the way,
Falling tree coming through,
We buck and we limb,
‘Til all that’s left is a trunk,
Measure out the right length,
Then cut out the right chunk,
In the raw Texas sun,
Our faces turn red,
Cutting logs into steps,
And giving them tread,
Give us two weeks and some tools,
We’ll build you a trail,
And a wooden staircase too,
TAT crew never fails
Hayden Price – TAT Crew Member
