He carried his hammer in a leather belt
a few nails protruded from his mouth,
he climbed the ladder and then
one by one he pounded the nails into the wall.
His rhythm, like a drummer in a rock band,
one, two, three and then on to the next.
By sunset the wooden frame looked like a house
all the outside walls defined
the smell of pine mixed with sweat.
The final nail driven and it was time to quit.
Tomorrow a helper was scheduled
to put up the drywall and door jams.
He told me he liked working with his hands
because when he finished
he could survey his work and come back
again and again to admire his finished product.
No comments:
Post a Comment