More, I shout, to the arching rafters. The door shudders on its jambs. The shelves under the books stiffen. The table offers coffee. Oh God, I hear the forests falling.
Timbers moan in the holds of the ships.
Spars sing in the wings of planes. All the toboggans in the hills are rushing, Skis are hissing, The great woods of the world are howling. The pines of the walls encircle me. The polished years are shining like brown bones. I sink into the chair.