An old green colored shed tops a makeshift
Work area that once was a housing unit
For my brothers’ cage of birds, snakes and such.
Now it is filled with various sized bolts;
Some of which even the Same size, may be
Totally difference for the need…
The aged fingers reach for yet another.
The area is covered with wheels, handles and motors.
The smell of gas and oil is sometimes nauseating.
But from sun-up to sun-down…with a few short breaks in between:
We can always find
Tinkering with lawnmowers. . . edgers:
Unclogging fuel lines
All of which have yet a few good blades to cut.
The fingers work tediously long hours
While sitting on a stool
Comprised of an old bucket with a board on top
A labor of love and frustration thrown in;
Here and there…
They’re wheeled out to the road, curbside;
With a sign – for sale –
And the waiting begins.
But the aged fingers reach for yet another to
Conquer – with his loyal companion at his feet
Daddy begins the task that will yet continue
To fulfill his hours under the old green colored
Shed; searching fingers reaching to find the
Right tools and bolts to
Unclog fuel lines
Sitting on the short stool…the bucket and board.
Until the setting sun brings a dinner call
We know where we can find Daddy
In his playground –
With wheels and blades of steel.