2nd Year Apprentice

The first year
the hammer was a cinder block in one small hand,
and pine was more durable and patient
than what I found aching
on the way home.
But my hands hardened,
and limbs learned gravity
with practice.

Later, arms loosened,
and stronger,
looked forward
to holding handles and pine.
The day opens
with boards waiting,
and handles become familiar
as the shape of my chin.
Now my hands hold work
like boards hold grain.
Brown lines of years run through me.
and the wood.
As the handle fits in
I feel a pull and
we are drawn to swing
by a magnet in the core of the world.
I hang on and drive down.
Walls stand up and tie in,
joists set on,
and trusses and rafters
and plywood or pressed board,
and I'm on the yellow roof.
Pulled up,
away from the earth
with the tide,
knowing how the sky becomes
bigger
when you're closer to it.
Here, I am more.
I am braided in the gravity of
joining.
I have become the making
and I'm flying around the sun.

pages 18,19