The Work Table
Even at a distance, you can see the scars,
the reminders of a thousand repairs,
of things being built and rebuilt,
hammers falling, chisels slipping,
square iron nails cutting through the wood.
The thick beams that make the worktable
are still thick, no weaker than the day they were made,
but carry with them infinitely more character,
not the illusion of strength, but strength itself.
About this poem.
About worktables like this one from the Hancock Shaker Village, about certain lives.