ODE TO THE MEMORY OF A WOOD MAN

In memory of my dad, who would have turned 80 today..______________________________________________A young girl, with curly auburn hair legs swinging,  sitting on a weathered stool,  sorting an old paint tin of mixed nails,   for pocket changefresh sawdust,  on the broom,  fingered letters in the dirt,  sweat-polished hand plane,  just out of reachshelac flakes  a waft of turps on the breeze  an unrecognisable whistled tune breaking the … Continue reading ODE TO THE MEMORY OF A WOOD MAN