Say spring too wet for plowing
runs axle-deep into July
or the August oven never quite fires up
before an early killing frost

say it rains the whole summer
or you catch root mold or blight
go a parching year without a drop

There you stand in the field
one with all the others
frail tottering headless at a loss

though still with work to be done
to clear away or turn under
mow rake and burn off this failure
if there is to be another crop

In the shop its bench work-scarred
long planks run under the window
where grease meets paint meets sawtooth chisel
where an engine would be heaved to take apart
and at one end vise jaws parted
having said the final word let go

and in the center of the gloom
underneath a caged lightbulb
the anvil spiked to a tree stump
where things may be heated and lifted
beaten down turned into one
and in place of a potbellied stove
the forge festooned with blackened tools

and on shelves underfoot rows of coffee cans
to sort by size wingnut from locknut
from wood screw machine screw
bent nail fence steeple hose clamp

and beyond all around broken things
brought here for the miracle
alongside things in their rude beginnings
that may yet be finished and praised
amid things in the way once too often
that may become raw materials
and out of their great beyond serve in turn as
patch or knife blade or chair rung
to be of use once again

Halfway through my first hot cup of tea
I carve at the block till
the first time the knife starts to slip.
Rarely do I put in a morning
bearing down on the maple,
usually no more than a cooling second cup.

If I am lucky I will have quit in time,
there will be nothing hurt. If not,
a touch of white glue on a toothpick,
a sheet of waxed paper
then a slab of heavy iron
to flatten out the slip.

Repairs can be invisible, or
you might have cut away
something you can't live without
but have to unless you want
to call the whole thing scrap.

Either way the slip lets you know
when the edge goes
like the fall of a skater
and you learn to watch for it.
From then on a little
sharpening for next morning
at oilstone and strop since
you can't have your tools too sharp
first thing, or too ready to begin.
Then it's on to ordinary work.

Before the automobile was even dreamt of
with all its backfiring danger expense
blow-outs breakdowns running out of gas
couples going courting
off into a buggy late at night

forget excuses knew of
advantages long since overlooked
of a good horse where you didn't hardly need
to touch a rein never mind the whip or brake

forget one-hand driving
it could see better than you
even moonless nights anyhow
and wasn't looking backward
so you could do as you pleased

and knowing the way would go along
sleepwalking toward home forever

maybe slow here and there for a mouthful
but turn in right where it's supposed to
at the barn stand stamping and nodding
till somehow it woke you both
before the rising sun
could become an embarrassment