My Old Man Was a Carpenter: A Poet with a Handsaw
Poet with a Handsaw
My dad could look at a tree
And calculate its
Lumber in board feet
How large a home could he
Construct with
Its carcass?
This was as close as he
Would come
To waxing poetic
Carpenters see
Only what they saw
My Father Would Have been 100 This Summer

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