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Stopping By The Flower Garden
Among the flowers lay what he was
I can't forget seeing it there,
Gray, work worn and glistening in the sun.
Yes, it was he alright
That lay there between the blossoms.
Powerfully mute yet saying so much.
As I stood there staring at it I saw him
Pumping the bellows to increase the heat
Then swinging the sledge
Forging his instrument, hammer blow upon hammer blow.
More heat, more hammering until it was ready.
As I stood there looking at it I could smell
The tempering he did to make it strong,
Strong as he. I'd seen him gently hold the leg
Of a Clydesdale for half an hour
Just to shoe it.
As I stood looking at it I could see him
Removing the stumps from the plot
Where his flowers bloomed so brightly.
The larger ones he pulled with his horse
But the ones the size of my waist
He cleared by hand.
As I stood there where it lay
T remembered the weight that took twelve of us
To place in its final rest.
As I stood there I thought
How bountiful the flowers were
In this ground where no weed
Grew under what reflected him so well,
That thick handled, master built hoe.
Oh, this could bring a tear. It reminds me of my daddy working at his bellows, but not to shoe horses, to forge anything we needed way out in the country there. My oldest son has his anvil, but Daddy is still with us, Thank God. This is so good. Thank you for sharing. I especially like the gentle subtle way of leading up to the last line. Very good beginning that makes you want to read more and then the poignant way it ends....I like your page and I intend to come back to read more.
Jessica
I love the imagery of this. It's almost as if we are peeking through a window into his world...where grows his flowers. Beautifully done.