II

Dad taught me to crown studs when I was eight

After I helped excavate the cross base with a sand

Shovel and bucket for the addition to our home

 

And I wanted to be an architect three years later

As I dragged my tape cross the freshly painted walls

And scaled the feet to inches on his vellum pads

 

With his thinnest Utrecht pencils. That summer I held

One end of every pressure-treated twelve foot six by six

we dug from the old garden while he cut angles in them

 

on the rusted Makita Mitor-Box for sidewalk border round

the maple to the back door. The following winter, mom had a fit

when she caught me at the top of an eight foot step ladder

 

nailing cherry ceiling boards in the nearly finished family room

and swore she’d never let me turn out like him- worn and tired.

But I bought my first hammer when I was fourteen, a twenty-

 

Two ounce Eastwing Framer with waffled head and spade in the

Back for splitting boards. I struck nails on the job-site for six years

With growing accuracy and a ring sweet to the ears every swing.

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, wow, what a pure voice

[MuSe Ampoule]

Grow to be better than our parents is what they always want from us...but we choose our own paths, and at times we actually like following their footsteps. This was a good piece. As my husband is a carpenter/cabinet maker I could see this visually as clear as a ringing hammer. Beautiful work.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the history and the description. We must learn to appreciate the art of work and beauty. The description took me in the words to a understanding of how hands and skills are the honor taught to children by wise parent. A very good ending to a outstanding poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Star Shaped Heart]

intrigued

[Ruth]

A learning process......honey....you walk the reader through awesomeness, truly, always loved your work :) Hugs xx

[HighBrowCulture]

steinbeck.