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July 28, 2014

Muir

Muir’s in limp mode
Draggin’ behind
Steam hammer taps slowly,
back of his mind.

Waiting on thoughts,
stacked up in his head.
Sorting out slowly
to forge on ahead.

Clearing his mind
out clearing his shed.
Stacking coal bins
heaped near the forge.

Close handy shovel
to feed on some more.
Coals flarin’ softly,
steel heats and glows,
golden sparks arc
as bellows blow.

Steam hammer’s cranking,
flails out a beat.
The blacksmith quick shuffles,
steel in the heat,
tappin’ and whackin’
shaping the mould.

Sledge hammers close handy,
a coupla red cans,
just breakin’ even,
sweat runnin’ free.

Steam hammer flails on through the day,
hammers and tongs all stacked away.
Forge banked well back,
hot plate swung down,
sizzling aroma wafts through the shed.

A stack of shaped steel
for tomorrow’s long round,
blue print indelibly
stamped in his mind.

Steam hammers resting,
sock a few down,
sketchin’ chalk sketches,
ideas flick round.
Sorting out angles

forging ahead.


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